Only A Hero
by lyn452
Summary: It’s always been agreed that the world needs a Batman. Just who should fill that role, however, does come up for debate.
1. Welcome Home

A/N: If I owned Batman I would have better things to do with my time. 

This is my first fanfic and I am still a little unsure of the ratings. The first chapter may be one of the more gruesome or the rating may go up. Also, this wouldn't be strictly canon and will pull from other representations of Batman. That said, enjoy!

**Chapter 1 Welcome Home**

Winter was coming in Gotham. Helena Troy kept one arm close around her midsection holding the strap of her bag and used the other to clutch at the opening of her hoodie. It helped little since her real problem was the cold air blowing in the gaps on the side of her sweatpants and her exposed feet. Damn leotard was not helping to keep the cold out either, just bunching in a manner that she couldn't fix until propriety allowed. She listened to her flip-flops against the cement sidewalk, cursing the cold September brings and herself for not packing clothes to compensate for the weather.

It wasn't her fault. She was used to the five-minute walk to her apartment near campus after practice rather than the subway ride and twenty minute walk to her parents house. Both of Helena's parents were committed to coming every gymnastic event she'd ever competed in since her start at age four. She was starting her senior year at Gotham U and for the first time neither of her parents could get off work to see her. She assured them that it was fine, but they insisted on a home-cooked meal to compensate. She couldn't say no to a free meal or her kind parents' wishes.

Helena looked at the setting sun between the buildings. She sighed, looking down again to avoid the bite of the wind. On top of it all she'd have to ask for a ride home. Gotham had never really been safe past dark, but since the Batman's disappearance five years ago crime had skyrocketed again. Granted, any rogue worth mentioning was gone by the time he'd stopped, but new players had replaced the villains. Nightwing occasionally came over from Bludhaven and Batwoman still presided over Gotham's rooftops, but it just wasn't enough to keep the new rogues away.

Not that Helena cared about the costumed element of Gotham; her thoughts were consumed by the reason she was walking in the first place.

The mechanic assured her that her bike would be ready by the end of the week. He told so her twice. It was now over two weeks and she was still walking. Next time she would just buy a book on motorcycle repair and figure it out herself. There was no way a greasy, bald, fat man in overalls was smarter than her.

It's not like it was her fault the bike got crashed in the first place. Okay, it was, but if the cops hadn't insisted on being so persistent she wouldn't have gotten so cocky. She had been doing a little joy riding, breaking at least twenty traffic laws in the process but it wouldn't have been such a joy otherwise, when she saw the cherries in her mirror. She had to dodge through heavy traffic at high speeds and force some pedestrians off sidewalks but she had managed to outrun Gotham's finest. The only problem was when she looked over her shoulder to smirk at her accomplishment; she had missed the dump truck backing out in front of her. She managed to jump off just in time. Her mother said she was lucky to be alive, let alone completely unharmed. Helena just wished her baby had faired as well as she did.

Helena braved the chilling wind and saw her parent's green front door only a block away. "Finally," she thought.

She jogged the final distance to the house. She put down her bag and kicked off her flip-flops onto the mat in the entryway. "Mom! Dad! Hey, I'm home!" Her empty stomach growled and she sniffed the air but couldn't pick up any whiff of cooking. Despite the lack of answer Helena turned the corner expecting to be greeted by her excited parents and a full table in the family dinning room.

When she looked up she got an entirely different kind of greeting.

Blood covered the beige carpet. Helena recognized it came from the two corpses. One was the back of a middle-aged man with gray temples, one who looked like he tripped and fell onto a pool stain of blood, one that resembled her father from the back. The other corpse was her mother. Her now empty gray eyes stared back at Helena and the mouth hung open in a silent scream. Helena shuddered at the way the throat had been opened spilling onto her mother's dress and apron.

Helena, unable to look at the bodies anymore, looked up. Instead of being greeted by a landscape print, there was a message in red:

I know who you are.


	2. A Strong Message

**Chapter 2 A Strong Message**

When flesh hits a brick wall three distinct sounds can be heard simultaneously: a slap, a thunk, and a crack. Cassandra Cain, Batwoman, would never tire of the music. She could feel the body shaking under her tight grip, whether he was quivering with pain or fear, she didn't know and frankly didn't care. "Where is he hiding?"

The thug's glare lost most of its intimidation because of the blood streaming from his temple thanks to his recent introduction to a Mr. Brick Wall. "Which he?"

Cassie forced his head into the wall again, vaguely wondering how head trauma would help jog memory. She remained silent waiting for him to talk. He just looked dizzy for a moment then focused back onto her, glaring. "I ain't telling you shit!"

Cassie gave her own glare. Before she could try and jog his memory again Barbara's voice was in her ear, "I've got a murder for you to check out."

She couldn't protest in front of the henchman, but waited for a better explanation. This new Riddler's crime spree had already lasted five days. Batwoman would not let it go on for another five and finding one of his henchmen in a bar was her only break so far. Surely, Oracle didn't just expect her to just drop everything. "It's urgent."

Apparently, the Oracle expected just that. Batwoman glared at the prey she was loathe to let loose. "Cassie, Bruce insists."

Cassie sighed inwardly. For all the talk of passing on the mantle, Bruce was still firmly in charge and not likely to relinquish his control anytime soon. The trump card played, Cassie grunted her affirmation. She dropped the man, and growled, "This isn't over." She was gone by the time he managed to get back on his feet.

* * *

Batwoman looked down on the scene, watching the multi-colored strobe lights of police cars from her place in the dark. "Cops are already here."

"I know. Bruce wants you to check it out anyway."

Cassie grunted. Batman may not be running across rooftops anymore, but he still fought crime every night. "Don't see the point."

Cassie moved to leave. Bruce, or no, this was a waste of her night; she had a Riddler to find. "Cass, a girl walked in and found her parents' corpses."

Cassie stopped. No wonder Bruce wanted her here so badly, another orphan made from the crime of Gotham. She kept to the shadows but changed positions in order to get a better look at what was happening.

She scanned the faces of the gathered mob of police and press. She recognized a few of the press members, including Vicki Vale's infamous daughter Gina. Gina's fame came from exposing the secret identity of the minor superhero Cardinal last year. He died two months later shopping for groceries. Word was she now had her sights set higher, causing panic among the superheroes, past and present. Those who knew the connection between Batman and Vicki Vale worried most, but Cassie suspected if Vicki ever shared the identity of Batman with her precious daughter, the world would know. Right now she was badgering some cop to give her tomorrow's headline. Upon closer inspection Cassie was surprised to find that it was just some cop.

The cop was another familiar face, the new police commissioner Ethan Grant. With the corruption of the past three commissioners, the mayor decided it was time for some new blood. Most of Grant's experience was gained in London, only moving to Gotham in the past year, acting as commissioner for about a month. Between past commissioner's actions, his lack of experience in Gotham and breaking the record for youngest commissioner Gotham history in the past 50 years, Grant had a lot to prove in a short amount of time. Cassie heard him tell Miss Vale that he had no comment at this time. Once he was out of earshot he yelled at his men to clear the house and keep the reporters back.

Perhaps Cassie had misjudged the importance of this murder since both Bruce and Ethan thought their presence necessary. She snuck in an upstairs window in order to get a look at the crime scene herself.

The room she ended up in was a teenaged girl's bedroom based on the lime green walls, purple bedspread and the posters of recent popular bands. Spotting the wall of trophies, medals, ribbons, and certificates Cassie changed her assessment to an accomplished teenaged girl's room. She silently made her way down the stairs.

She looked in on the crime scene. A few cops lingered but she didn't spot the man in charge, so she moved on, mentally taking in the positions in chalk and the message on the wall. She found him in the kitchen with a girl, older than Cassie was expecting. The girl, who Cassie presumed was the daughter, was leaning against the counter edge sipping out of a thermos, looking at the kitchen floor tile. Ethan looked like a detective straight out of a movie, wearing a tan trench coat and taking notes on a small note pad. "I realize you have been through a lot today, Miss Troy, but I have a few questions for you."

Miss Troy set down her thermos in a fluid motion. "Let me save you some time, Officer…"

"Commissioner." He looked up as if just realized he corrected her. "Ethan Grant."

"Commissioner Grant. No, I don't know who would have done this. My parents' enemies consisted of the Millers next door who mom suspected stole their morning paper and the guy at work that dad beat out for a promotion. Neither are the killing types. I would assume the you referred to in the message is me, but I have no idea what that means either. Yes this is tragic and shocking and I thank you for your sympathies. Now, is that all?"

The girl's cool reaction was strange, and since Ethan looked content just to look dumbfounded, his pencil not moving. Cassie decided it was time to make her presence known. "You don't seem all that upset about your parents' deaths."

Ethan jumped, dropping his pencil, but Batwoman's sudden appearance didn't faze the girl at all. She just picked up her thermos, drinking from it again, still not looking up. "I'm sorry I didn't realize there was a certain way to act when a kid discovers her dead parents and a message in blood. Should I start crying?"

Ethan snapped up from retrieving his pencil. "That won't be necessary, Miss Troy. People deal with death in different ways. I think you've been through enough tonight." He put his notepad and pencil away and handed her a card. "Here's my card, we'll be in touch." His voice softened losing the official tone and he leaned in. "Do have some place to stay tonight, any other family?"

She bit her lip. "No family, I'm alone now." She paused, keeping her eyes hidden. "I could use a ride back to my apartment though."

"I'll get one of my men on it, and I am keeping him stationed there overnight." He called for someone on his radio, and then whispered to the man that entered the room. Batwoman's eyes didn't leave the girl who was studying the card in her hand.

"Miss Troy, this is officer Dan Rox. He'll be your escort tonight."

Miss Troy took a final drink out her thermos. She turned around rinsing it out and leaving it in the sink with the other unwashed dishes. She turned back, revealing deep blue eyes. "Thank you, Commissioner Grant." With that she exited with Officer Rox.

Now that they were alone Ethan turned to Batwoman. "I appreciate the fact that this is Gotham and you are a hero with bat in your name so I must work with you, but you need to stop sneaking up on me like that."

Cassandra said nothing. She moved over to the sink, studying the thermos the daughter left behind. "Think the daughter did it?"

"No. She barely spoke at all, and only referred to her parents as nice people. I checked her parent's finical situation before I got down here. They were living paycheck to paycheck and their life insurance will leave her with just enough to pay off the funeral and perhaps another month's worth of payments on the cars and house. She has nothing to gain from their deaths. And there's the matter of the message. More fucking riddles."

Ethan's first priority had been catching the Riddler before this as well. Cassie nodded. She'd been dealing with riddles for nearly a week, the last thing she needed was another cryptic message. "What makes the Troys so special as to warrant your personal attention?"

He sighed and started walking back to the crime scene. "As sad as it is, the media attention. All those reporters out there would say the city isn't doing enough to keep Gotham safe and if I hadn't shown up they would comment on my absence as well." That made sense. Cassie was relived that her brand of crime fighting didn't come with politics. "As for the Troys themselves, father was an accountant. Mother was a teacher. The daughter is the most fascinating member of the family."

"Why?"

He pulled out his notepad again. "She qualified for the Olympics a couple years back but turned it down. Still keeps up with the gymnastics though. Bright girl, she's studying to be a doctor. Had a few run-ins with the law, speeding tickets and a couple of fights. More interesting then her law-abiding, tax-paying parents, but nothing to reveal why someone would send that strong of a message to her."

I know who you are, bright red and impossible to miss. If only Batwoman knew as well. The room was cleared. Batwoman walked up to the message. It was handwritten; she could see the groves of fingers. DNA and fingerprints would have to be checked.

She moved on to studying the placement of the bodies. Ethan answered her unasked questions. "The killer used a knife. The mother was facing up, throat slit. The father was face down; his wound was in the gut, intestines only kept in by his position. Had a hell of a time trying to get him out of here without spilling him all over the place. Messy business."

"What were their names?"

Ethan referred back to his notepad. "Chet and June Troy, parents to Helena."

Cassie's stomach clenched at the name, thinking of another Helena. The commissioner didn't notice, his attention taken by his radio. By the time his attention returned to Batwoman, she was gone.


	3. If You Ever Lost a Loved One

**Chapter 3 If You Ever Lost a Loved One, I Feel For You**

They were really gone. After studying the two caskets for fifteen minutes, this was the conclusion Helena had reached. The caskets were closed so she might be able to fool herself about the bodies in them, but her outfit was a different story. Helena and her mother had spent the past two months perfecting Helena's look for Med School interviews. Anytime she was expected to be dressed a certain way she turned to her mother for advice. No one advised her on her outfit for her parents' funeral. She had dipped into her Med School interview wardrobe, wearing a black top and tailored black pants along with a pair of purple and black tweed heels and her name brand reading glasses. Minimal make-up and bunned hair completed that professional, adult look. She had completely dressed herself and looked the part of a doctor, proving she was an adult who could handle Med School. Her mother had guaranteed the look would be perfect for interviews. Too bad she was just guessing about her funeral attire.

"Miss Troy. May I speak to you for a moment?"

Helena unfolded her arms and turned to face the owner of the nasal voice. Before her parents' deaths Miss Troy was only something she was called when in trouble with the cops. Lately she was more apt to respond to Miss Troy than Helena. "Yes Mr. Levov?"

The funeral director, Martin Levov, had been fretting over every detail. Helena knew it was because of the media coverage the murders had received, but it still annoyed her to be bothered with insignificant details like the best coffin arrangement and oak or mahogany caskets. "Miss Troy, you are the only family correct?"

It didn't help that he seemed unaware of what may be inappropriate to bring up to a young woman whose just lost the only family she had. "Yes. It's just me."

"Well, people will be arriving shortly and you are the greeting line. This just cannot be."

"It'll be fine, Mr. Levov. I can stand by myself. Should be a small group anyway."

He considered this for a moment before dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "No, it just cannot be."

"It will be alright, Martin." The man speaking was Father Thompson. He had been a real lifesaver this past couple of days for Helena Troy. The Troys only went to church on Christmas and Easter and Helena was not entirely certain which church they went to. Luckily, the funeral home worked with several different men of faith, so all Helena had to do was check a box. They provided Father Thompson who was extremely kind and understanding without any undertone of pitying. Helena was extremely grateful for his calm handling of everything.

Somewhere a door could be heard opening. Mr. Levov got excited again. "They are here. They are here and we are not prepared."

Father Thompson sighed. "Of course, we are Martin. You go and greet the visitors and I shall remain with Helena until I must prepare for the service."

"Yes, Right."

After he left, Helena leaned over to whisper to the priest. "Thank you."

He smiled. "You"re welcome, my child."

Helena didn't recognize the first group of people paying their respects. Or the second group. Or third. She was beginning to worry she wouldn't recognize anyone until she saw Judy, one of her father's assistants. Judy threw her hefty arms around Helena and sobbed into her shirt. Helena looked at the wet spot left when Judy pulled away wondering if she should clean it off or leave it be. After Judy, the parade of people began to blur and by the time the service began Helena couldn't remember anyone who came except the one who made her right shoulder damp.

Rather than having a funeral and wake over the course of two days, Helena pushed to get it all over and done with in one. Mr. Levov threw a hissy fit but between her insistence and Father Thompson's acceptance of not having a full church service because of the unusual circumstances he assented. They would have the wake, the service, and the burying. The goal was to have it all done within five hours to avoid any unwanted press.

They did not reach this goal.

* * *

One unnoticed man watched Helena Troy struggle. First it was with fellow mourners, all of whom were much more exuberant with their tears and sobs then the only child. Her face hardly changed at all. While she greeted, grieved, and sat through the service her face remained blank and strong. Then she battled with the paparazzi. She handled them like a seasoned professional, ducking her head under a ridiculously big hat and sunglasses on the rainy day. Managing to keep them at bay without resorting to physical violence. Despite the sadness he almost smiled.

* * *

Helena glared beneath her sunglasses. Though Judy, who had somehow winded up next to her at the burial site, mistook it for crying and grasped her tightly, crying, "There, there, child you must be strong in these sad times."

Helena wasn't crying. That was why she hiding behind dark sunglasses on a day without sun, without them her front-page tomorrow would show her glaring eyes for all the world to judge. What kind of monster doesn't cry at her parents' funeral, after all?

She had been hoping the rain would deter the rats posing as reporters. At least they weren't trying for interviews. If she heard Gina Vale's voice one more time, the sunglasses would be useless because she would have to punch the journalist and might not stop.

Judy finally stopped, releasing Helena to clench in her own sobs. As her oxygen intake resumed Helena recognized that the coffins had been lowered and the crowd was waiting on her. She stepped forward and threw two red roses on her parents' final resting spot, cameras flashed, catching the moment.

With that photo op the press packed up, and people began to leave. Father Thompson approached. "I'm sorry for your loss."

She gave a slight smile at the sincere tone, but her eyes were pulled back to watching the dirt piling.

Judy pulled her into one more bone-crushing hug. "If there is anything at all that you need, don't hesitate."

Helena tried to gasp out a response but settled for a pat on the back. After she let go Judy asked if she had a ride home. Helena nodded. Judy gave her hand one last squeeze before turning away. Helena resumed watching dirt, barely acknowledging the sympathies and platitudes people gave before taking their leave.

She thought she was alone when she heard her gymnastics coach's voice. "I understand what you must be going through."

Helena didn't know he had come. No, wait she vaguely recalled her team's false tears earlier. None of them gave a shit about her or her family before the famous murders. She was only a winner and a name to them, a means for trophies and distinctions. "Really? You found your murdered parents along with a cryptic note written in blood? Could you tell me how you dealt with it? Because I'm struggling."

He took a step back. She didn't know why. She could not have possibly surprised him. Bitch was the only language she spoke to him. "I…I…Of course not but I can imagine."

The dirt just kept piling up. "Then you're one sick bastard."

"Helena, this isn't you."

But it was her, and she knew what she had to do. "Jerry, I quit."

"Helena, you can't quit."

She could barely see any of the mahogany now. "Yes I can. I want to be a doctor not a gymnast."

"You're dealing with a lot right now, I can understand a break…"

Jerry did not understand. He never got it. "I don't want a break. I will not be coming to any practices, any meets, anything, I'm through with it all!"

"It's your senior year, you can't quit now!" Jerry whispers, "Helena you're the best on the team."

Helena was silent. "You are welcome back on the team at any time."

Helena just watched her past go underground.

* * *

The others had gone hours ago, but she stayed. He believed she would remain until the bitter end. The gravediggers were sure to get home before her. As would he, cloaked in the shadows he was so familiar with he would watch her say good-bye to the only parents she had ever known. 


	4. In the Night I Live

**Chapter 4 In the Night I Live**

Why did all the crazies love to come out on Halloween? Actually if Cassie was honest with herself the crazies came out every night in Gotham, but on Halloween it just got ridiculous. She had already broken up a gang of Freddy Kruegers fighting hockey mask wearing Jasons and stopped a Jigsaw rip-off serial killer because villains today lacked any creativity, using movies for inspiration when they couldn't use past Rogues. She scowled at the thought of past Rogues; the new Riddler had disappeared after his last crime spree over two weeks ago. Still, Batwoman was taking her first breather for the night, and she tried to enjoy the short reprieve. She missed the days when Halloween was strictly a Scarecrow holiday and other criminals encroached at their peril. Not that Scarecrow Halloweens were ever safe or less straining, but at least with him you knew that no one else would be out and the master plan would involve fear toxin in some form. Too bad Crane was now a permanent resident of Arkham; unable to make those daring escapes with a less able body. 

Age was a cruel and undiscriminating mistress. She was reminded every time she saw Bruce. A man who once never allowed himself to be anything but at the peak of human physical condition, reduced now to using a cane to walk. Dick said it was better than dead, but sometimes Cassie wondered. Was such a weakened state really better than dead for someone like Bruce? 

"Hope you're rested up."

"Would it matter if I said no?" 

"Would it matter to who?"

It was a fair question. Cassie didn't have to be up here. If she really wanted she could go home, take off the costume, walk right past Bruce and go to bed. Gotham would survive a night without her. 

However, Cassie knew that it mattered. It mattered to anyone she cared about, and ultimately there would be a night that Gotham would not survive without a bat. She stifled a grunt. "Who?"

"It's Halloween. Who do you think?"

Cassie could hear Barbara's all-knowing smirk. She felt a headache coming on. "I don't want to play." 

"Scarecrow."

Cassie knew Crane wasn't dead, but the man certainly was too old to be much of a threat anymore. She still checked up on him and the other rogues rotting in Arkham from time to time. Crane didn't get any visitors, so she knew he had no one to pass his toxin off to. 

Barbara interrupted her thoughts. "It's not Crane. This one has got a Dorothy and Tin man with him. A best group costume gone bad."

Cassie missed the joke. She just asked for the coordinates and was off.

* * *

Bruce Wayne did not like to admit when he did not know something. He rarely ever did it, especially aloud. But he had been studying the pictures, the facts, every possible angle, and something was missing in the Troy case. His instincts knew it, and they were well tested. He needed a fresh pair of eyes.

That was the thought going through his head when he heard the roar of the Batmobile. He didn't like someone else driving his car, but he had little choice against nature's aging process. He rose, grabbing his cane and scowling at the many popping noises of his body. Bruce Wayne was not the type of man to sit by and watch the action, but computer work was all he could do against crime now. He loathed the day when he would no longer be able to do even that. He dwell on the negative later, he wanted to hear Cassie's account of the night.

He only had to wait a moment until the Batmobile blazed into the cave, briefly illuminating the dark space. The engine died and Batwoman popped out. Cassie pulled the cowl off immediately. Bruce remembered her complaining about keeping all her hair stuffed into it. His suggestion of cutting it off earned him a glare, but she never brought it up again.

"Who's this new Scarecrow?"

Cassie didn't even pause on her way to the vault to change. "Nobody."

Bruce followed behind her, carefully navigating his cane so he didn't fall. "He's a new threat."

Cassie closed the door to prevent Bruce from entering but continued talking. "Hardly."

Haunted memories from fear-induced encounters flashed before Bruce's eyes. "Fear toxin is not something to be taken lightly."

Cassie emerged in her civilian clothes. "I know. He didn't have any."

Bruce waited for her to continue.

"All he had was a female sidekick, a robot, and an army of mutants."

That didn't fit with the old Scarecrow's M.O. This one must have something else in mind. "What kind of mutants?"

"I don't know. There was a big cat, a dog, and monkeys with wings."

Now he understood. "Wizard of Oz. He's copying the book not the criminal." 

Cassie took Bruce's position in front of the computer screen to type her logs. "I've never read it."

Cassandra Cain's upbringing was both an asset and a liability in Bruce's eyes. She was without a doubt one of the best fighters alive and could now talk well enough, but the simplest bits of trivia still could throw her. It was this lack of basic knowledge that always worried Bruce. "At least rent the movie."

"It presented no challenge to me Bruce."

Bruce remained quiet as Cassie finished her logs. Before she could retreat to her room he stopped her, grabbing an arm. "Cassie, I want to talk to you about the Troy case."

He felt her stiffen but he continued. "You've neglected it. They happened over three weeks ago and we've discovered no leads. This cannot happen."

Cassie's voice held an icy tone. "The police have found nothing either."

Bruce let his voice drop into his Batman growl. "We're not the police." He dropped her arm and made for the stairs. He wanted to check on Alfred before he went to bed.

* * *

Cassie heard the clock entrance close and sat down in front of the computer, pulling up the Troy case files. Cassie knew she wouldn't find anything new tonight, but she also knew that Bruce would check in the morning. So she opened them obediently, trying to read the blurred text. 

Cassie knew that she was avoiding the case. Not just because it seemed to be a hopeless mystery, with no clues or suspects, but because every time she saw or heard the name Helena, visions of a splattered mess on pavement filled her head. She couldn't admit this to Bruce though. Instead she just struggled to stay awake as she studied the crime scene photos once again.

A/N: I know it's the wrong holiday, but planning has never been one of my strong suits. Anyway, thanks for the reviews or just reading. 


	5. It'll All Click When the Check Clears

**Chapter 5 It'll All Click When the Check Clears**

For two months it felt like someone had been watching her every move. Helena found it ironic that it started after she lost the only people she thought ever cared enough to bother worrying about her. She tried to convince herself that it was just her nerves. Notes in blood tended to make people see things that weren't really there. Still, the feeling persisted. Leading her to wonder when the watching and waiting would turn into something more.

Helena wasn't about to worry over a feeling; she had much less abstract worries to distract her. Like making enough money to support herself; deciding what she was going to do with the house that was the only home in her memory; applying to medical school; and a million other decisions that needed to be reached yesterday.

Suffice to say Helena Troy was stressed.

So she did what she always did to unwind. She worked out like a fiend. Helena never quite understood other methods; the only thing that ever made her feel better was controlled physical aggression. Her mother ate large amounts of sweets and her father threw himself into work. Both methods always struck Helena as counterproductive. Her mother's stress came from gaining weight and her father's due to work. Helena remembered they were just as baffled by her chosen stress relief method.

She found it soothing to feel the burn of pushing her muscles to their limit. Her gymnastics training developed her muscles in ways that would make special ops soldiers and supermodels jealous. There was almost no fat to be found on her body and every muscle she possessed was toned from regular use. Despite quitting the team, she still remained in the same shape she was prior because of her constant need to lose herself in physical exertion.

The physical release of tension was only part of joy she found, though. It relaxed her mentally as well. Gymnasts started young so that it would become second nature. So that acrobatic feats that were impossible to the average person were as simple as walking to them. When Helena let go of one bar she didn't trust and hope she'd grasp for the other, she knew. Her fingers knew the exact moment to let go and her hands knew exactly where to be to catch the next bar. She didn't need to think about it.

It was mental freedom. Sometimes she would just let her mind stop, entering a sort of meditative state where only her breathing and flexing of muscles existed. This time though her effortless motions allowed her mind to wonder.

She didn't know what to do with the house. Grip. She could give up her apartment and move into the house full-time, but she may not be able to afford it. Flex. Even though she had been hired as a paid intern for the hospital, she still had school bills to contend with. Stretch. That was why she had a meeting with a financial aid officer in less than an hour. Tighten. Wait, that was a while ago, what time is it? Release.

Shit. She was late.

* * *

What a waste. He was a trained killer, yet all he did was watch. He watched the girl go to class. He watched the girl work out. He watched as she ran across campus.

He longed for something beyond watching. He was itching for some action.

* * *

Helena paused outside the financial aid office in order to take a breath. She was in excellent shape but sprints across campus do leave a person breathless. She was already late; she didn't want to appear short of breath as well.

When she entered the not-so-natural blonde woman at the front desk looked up.

"I have an appointment with Mr. McGward."

She turned her attention back to her work, pointing a painted red fingernail at a door. "Through there."

Helena entered and was greeted by a portly looking redhead working diligently at his desk. The sound of the door closing behind her startled him. His instant look of recognition and subsequent clumsy attempt to stand and greet her made him seem even more ridiculous to Helena. He took her hand in both of his, shaking furiously. "Miss Troy. I was so sorry to hear about your parents."

Helena wanted to get down to business. She forcefully removed her hand and sat in the leather chair before his desk. "Everybody's sorry about that. I wanted to come down before you called me in."

McGward followed Helena's lead, taking a seat in his own chair. "Why would we be calling you in?"

Helena smoothed down the hooded sweatshirt she'd thrown on before racing over here. She wished she'd dressed up a little for this meeting. Still, she played the part of collected professional. "I know my parents had a trust fund set up to pay for my college but there's no way they had enough to pay for it all. I wanted to discuss other forms of financial aid as I hopefully will be going to med school after this."

He smiled. Then he turned to the computer on his desk, pushing buttons and clicking the mouse, presumably accessing her file. Then he got a look of confusion, turning back to Helena. "Yes, Miss Troy, your tuition was paid through a trust fund, but there was no limit on it."

Now it was Helena's turn to be confused. "What do you mean? My parents weren't that wealthy."

He clicked and typed a few more things. "Well, Miss Troy according to the paperwork the trust fund was set up before your adoption, so I assume your birth parents pay for it."

"My birth parents?" Helena's well-running brain sputtered.

He plowed on, not catching of the hitch in her voice. "Like I said that would be my guess, the account is filled anonymously."

"I was adopted?" Helena still couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. She didn't say a word, and the silence stretched on.

The officer squirmed in his chair. "Yes, Miss Troy, when you were about a year old. Didn't you know?"

"No." Now the officer was fidgeting and looking at the walls as well. Helena ignored him. She was adopted. Chet and June lied to her. Her dead parents lied her entire life about who she was and where she came from. She needed to get out of here.

"Miss Troy, are you alright?"

No. No she was not all right. She ignored the financial aid officer, pushing back her chair and running out the door. No, she definitely was not all right.

* * *

This girl was a maniac. He nearly died three times trying to follow that whizzing bike through traffic. She seemed upset leaving the main building, but he didn't think this was a safe or healthy method of unwinding. And his way often included a run in with Batwoma.

Horns blared as he cut off another cab as she took a sharp left turn. She screeched to a stop in front of a familiar house. He wondered why she would return to this place. He unbuckled his safety belt. He would have to follow and investigate this new turn of events.

* * *

Even with her parents gone, every time Helena entered their house by force of habit she would remove her shoes. Today she did not. Besides they weren't really her parents, now were they?

She tore up the stairs. She would not let herself cry. She wanted proof. Cold solid evidence one way or the other. Her father's office door was always kept looked when her father wasn't working since within its walls a lot of valuable information was contained.

Helena usually respected her father's privacy and rarely even went in the room. Today she kicked the door off its hinges to get inside.

She first went over to the family photo albums. She often questioned why they were kept in this room. Her mother always claimed they were a little over protective of such priceless artifacts since the fire destroyed their first photo albums. It was why no pictures of Helena as a baby existed.

She nearly ripped out pages of albums as she searched them, desperate for anything. She threw them on the floor as each album showed only useless happy memory after useless happy memory. When she ran out of albums she threw down the shelf they had rested on as well for good measure.

Helena ran her hands over her pulled hair resting them on her ponytail. Somewhere in this room was what she was looking for. She knew it. She went over to her father's desk. She opened drawers and gave his client books the same treatment as the photo albums. The pages ripped easier and soon she all she was left with was torn bits of paper between covers and an overwhelming desire to cry.

She looked over to where the safe was hidden. Her father never told her where he hid the key for it. Neither parent ever let her see its contents. She always wondered why, but her curiosity was never strong enough to actually attempt a break in.

Helena searched her father's desk again, looking for a pen. She took it apart easily, and walked over to the safe.

A few summers back she taught herself how to pick locks out of boredom. She was always curious and actually possessed an uncanny natural ability for it. Her parents' safe was fairly high-end but it only took her a manner of minutes to break inside.

The first set of documents consisted of her parents' marriage license, family records and sensitive forms of identifications. The next set was her parents' 401K plans. Then insurance polices. The next thing she pulled out made her heart stop.

It was her parents' wedding album. The one that was supposed to have been destroyed in that fire so long ago. She looked through this one carefully, not believing its existence to be true. She turned each page as if she were an archaeologist handling a papyrus copy of the Egyptian Book of the Dead.

There were several other photo albums stored away beneath that one as well. Helena looked through them all. She saw her parents' early days of marriage, grandparents she never met, and family friends still in their youth. It was proof positive that her parents had lied to her. She laid each photo album in a circle around her, surrounding herself.

The last thing in the safe was a folder. She picked it up carefully, for the first time in her memory she felt the cold steel of fear piercing through her. She opened it, a picture fluttered to the ground.

She looked down at the picture, closing the unseen folder once again. The picture landed face down and she bent over to retrieve it. She kept it face down until she righted herself again. She flipped it over and took a good look. She gasped and fell to the floor.

The contents of the folder only confirmed it. Chet and June Troy adopted the dark-haired baby in the pink blanket a little over a year after her day of birth. The birth parents wished to have their names withheld, though they would provide for the best education money could buy through an anonymous trust fund. They only requested that the baby be called Helena.

Helena sat in the middle of the destroyed room, her parents' lies surrounding her. She would not allow herself to cry. The message "I know who you are" echoed in her mind. She just wished she knew herself.

* * *

He returned to the car and dug under the passenger seat. He found his prize, and flipped open the issued cell phone to make the only call he was permitted. Someone picked up on the second ring but did not utter a word. He simply said, "She knows."

"Good. Phase one is complete. Report back immediately."


	6. Birds of a Feather

**Chapter 6 Birds of a Feather (Give Thanks Together) **

Barbara loved the smell of old books. Most people preferred e-books these days, but Barbara was a sucker for the classics. She always waited until she had a decent stack of old editions before she began putting them away, leaving it for the lulls in her shift. Which were more frequent since most people got their information from the net rather then actually stepping foot in the library.

Not that she could claim much better, Barbara thought as she wheeled in the Romance section replacing a Jane Austin. The Oracle was a master of technology. But Barbara was no stranger to duality within herself. Hence her day job as the head librarian in the Gotham public library and her night one as the all-knowing Oracle.

"Heya Babs."

Barbara jumped in her seat. She didn't bother to look at was sure to be the grinning face behind her. "Helena, you're going to give me a heart attack one day."

"How did you know it was me?"

"The only other people who call me Babs are men." Another thought came to her. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"I'm skipping, being a bad girl."

Barbara could easily think of a hundred worse things but still laughed. She turned around and was surprised to see Helena hanging from one of the beams above the bookshelves. Barbara wondered how she got up there as Helena swung down and landed gracefully in front of the librarian. She figured it out the second the though crossed her mind.

"I always forget you're a gymnast."

"How could you forget? I do this every time."

"You don't look like a gymnast." Though, Barbara thought Helena looked familiar even when they first met. She could never place where she'd seen Helena's stunning looks before, but she figured it would come to her someday. Probably when looking at models in magazines or watching an actress in a movie. Someday in the distant future when she had time to do either activity.

"Why? Because I'm not 5'2 with no breasts." Helena stuck out her already ample chest to further her point.

Babs laughed again. "Actually, that's got a lot to do with it."

Barbara wheeled herself back behind the counter, Helena following gingerly. She leaned over the counter as Barbara fetched more books to put back in their proper place. "Come on, Babs, you aren't 5'2 and flat-chested and you used to be a gymnast."

Barbara's head popped back up again from under the desk, a fresh stack of books in her lap. "That's different. I was not a world-class gymnast."

It was different. Barbara Gordon had not been a world-class gymnast; she had been Batgirl. In the world of spandex and masks it worked to a woman's advantage to have curves. Hell, Selina could have written an entire book on the subject. Of course, Barbara couldn't say any of that so she just began to roll herself to the Non-fiction section.

Helena still followed. "It doesn't matter anyway. I quit the team."

Barbara stopped and whirled herself around. She wished she wouldn't have to look up so much when she scolded someone. "Why on earth did you do that?"

Helena wasn't looking at Barbara, acting like a child in trouble. The silence stretched on until Helena broke it with a sigh. "Look, Babs, I need your help."

Barbara began moving again figuring it was best to drop the subject. Considering what she'd been through Babs could hardly blame the girl for wanting to quit gymnastics and lose herself in schoolwork. "Of course, which subject?"

As she replaced _The Biography of Lex Luthor: His Rise and Fall _she could hear Helena's hesitation. "It's my parents…I need to find them…and I don't…um…I don't know how…to find them."

Another thing Barbara missed was looking into to people's eyes. Helena was still averting hers, but Barbara desperately wanted to see what feeling was in them. "Helena, what happened was awful, but nothing can bring your parents back. If you want to become more spiritual after this, it's understandable but then you should be in a church not a library. There's nothing for you to find here."

Barbara just hoped Helena wasn't planning on doing anything drastic. She'd been Batgirl and the Oracle long enough to see happened when people messed with powers they shouldn't.

"No it's not them. It's…" Helena let out a groan of frustration and rested her forehead on a bookshelf. She told the books, "I found out I was adopted. I want to find my birth parents."

It was times like this Barbara was almost thankful for the chair; it saved her the trouble of having to find one to sit down on. She guided Helena over to a table where Helena explained everything. Combined with what she knew from Cassie about the note left in blood, Barbara could see why Helena was so anxious to find her real parents and with them maybe some real answers. She would have to make a few phone calls after this.

"What did you do when you found all this out, Helena?"

"I destroyed a room and then got drunk."

Barbara frowned. "You shouldn't do that."

"I know the drinking's illegal."

"Well, no, but it's still not a good coping mechanism."

"Unless they changed the drinking age recently, it's illegal Babs."

"You're a senior in college Helena, you can't be that young."

"I skipped a year in grade school and I was born in June. I'm only 20."

"Oh." Funny, Barbara always believed Helena acted old for her age when she thought she was older. "Which room did you destroy?"

"My father's office. I was looking for proof concerning my adoption."

Barbara took in this information. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Helena looked off in the distance. "I don't know what I was looking for." She gave a little laugh, grabbing a chair and sitting across from Barbara. "I guess I still don't."

Helena let her head drop into her hands. They sat in silence. Barbara didn't know what to say or how to comfort Helena. She rarely let any vulnerability show, but now tears may be streaking down her hidden face.

When Helena looked up again, there was no firm evidence she'd been crying. She recollected herself instantly and looked at Barbara. "Will you help me?"

Barbara didn't need to consider it. "Of course, where should we start?"

* * *

Meeting with Helena finally motivated Barbara enough to really investigate the Troy murders. She was currently watching a tape of an old gymnastic meet to identify any possible suspects.

Barbara had gone to a few of Helena's meets and had always been impressed by her obvious talent. The first time Helena invited her to a meet, Barbara was touched. Helena always struck her as such an isolated child, always keeping to herself only opening up to Barbara after a month of practically living in the library studying. They found a common love of gymnastics and over time became friends. Barbara couldn't say no to Helena's rare show of open friendliness. Besides, Barbara had a soft spot for a bookworm with athletic ambitions.

Watching Helena's qualifying match for the Olympic team just reminded Barbara why people said Helena willingly threw away a gold medal. Her form and executions were near flawless. She was the perfect example of strength and grace personified.

It also reminded Barbara of her semi-serious thoughts about approaching Helena becoming the third Batgirl. Cassie could use the help and Helena seemed too perfect of a candidate. Barbara could not dismiss the idea, but had no idea how to go about approaching the girl. After her parents' deaths Barbara became even more convinced that Helena should join the Bat family, and more confused about how to go about doing so.

"What are you watching?"

Barbara jumped and whipped her head around to see who scared her. Twice in one day, she must be slipping. She wasn't surprised by her guest's identity, though. "Jesus, Dick don't you knock?"

Dick stepped forward clad in his Nightwing uniform. "Notice the outfit, Babs."

"The uniform doesn't excuse your manners, Dick."

"That may be so, but your windows don't have knockers Babs."

She glared at him. He took off his mask and plopped down on the sofa, making himself quite comfortable. "Back to my original question. What are you watching?"

She pointed at the girl dismounting the balance beam. "That's Helena Troy."

Dick started eating the M&Ms from Barbara's candy dish. "The girl Bruce is obsessed with?"

Barbara frowned, for her disappearing chocolate as much as the comment. "The girl whose parents were murdered, yes."

"Oh come off it Barbara. The old man's obsessed, more so than usual. I don't get it. I'd understand if she was ten and it happened right in front of her, but she's a big girl, she can handle it."

"She's still an orphan caused by crime. Bruce seems to have a soft spot for them."

It was a low blow, but Dick only tensed for a moment. He watched the figure move across the screen. "She's certainly good looking though. If only I was ten years younger."

Barbara snatched away her candy dish. "Try twenty years younger."

Dick smirked. "Jealous?"

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Why are you here?"

Dick smiled. "Maybe that's why the old man is so obsessed, he's got a weakness for beautiful women too you know."

Barbara sighed in response.

Dick was satisfied. "I wanted to see if you needed a ride for tomorrow."

Barbara looked back blankly.

"Thanksgiving at Wayne Manor?"

Right. With all the stores focusing on Christmas, Barbara had forgotten about the holiday. She thought of Helena. Poor girl, she'd be alone. Well, not if Barbara could help it. "No. Do you think Bruce would be upset if I brought someone?"

Dick stiffened. "You're seeing someone."

Barbara entertained the thought of letting Dick think that but decided against it. She still felt guilty about the orphan comment. "No, but I'm friends with Helena Troy. She shouldn't be alone."

"I doubt Bruce would have any problem with it. Cassie might be upset, she's almost as bad as Alfred about surprise guests."

* * *

No one was happy about the extra dinner guest but nobody was opposed either. They were a group who understood the pain of loss and loneliness and sacrificing something you want to better someone else's life.

Dick got over Barbara's dinner guest as soon as he learned it wasn't a new boyfriend. He had spent most of the past two days with Bruce and Cassie; he secretly welcomed the new company.

Cassie was mostly upset about the extra place setting messing up her table arrangement anyway, which only proved to Dick that she modeled her new role of nurse and housemaid too much after Alfred.

Alfred. Dick wished the old butler could join them for the Thanksgiving meal but ever since his second stroke he'd been confined to bed rest. Officially, that's why Bruce hired Cassie to become a permanent resident of Wayne Manor, to care for the two elderly men. In reality, it was Bruce who insisted on caring for Alfred. He said he was making up for years of care that could never be paid in full.

Dick knew the visitor from outside the family upset Bruce. What Dick couldn't decide though was why. Was it because there could be no plain discussion of Bat business at the dinner table? Was it because Bruce would be forced to act his public image of an elderly fop and old playboy at a Thanksgiving meal? Or was it just because it didn't allow Bruce to lock himself up in his cave studying case files? Dick figured it was probably a combination of the three.

Dick heard the door ring and went to open it for Barbara and Helena. He briefly wondered where Bruce was as he could hear Cassie banging around in the kitchen.

He opened the door to a smartly dressed Barbara and a lost looking Helena. Babs held up a bottle. "I brought wine."

Dick laughed. "Good. Everyone knows family functions can't function without booze."

Barbara never held Dick's appreciation for puns. "Helena brought a pie."

Dick looked at Helena who was grasping on that pie like a life preserver. He held out a hand. "I'm Richard Grayson, but call me Dick. Come in both of you."

Barbara wheeled in. Helena took Richard's hand and gave him a strange look. "I've never actually met a guy who called himself a dick before."

Dick didn't quite know how to react to that but he saw a sparkle in Helena's eyes along with a regained confidence she now held as she strolled past him. She led the way, looking like she not only knew where she was heading but also owned the place.

Dick managed to stop staring at Barbara's car and shut the door. Barbara whispered to him, " She takes some getting used to."

Dick walked beside Barbara to the dining room. "Which is a polite way of saying that she's difficult." Barbara started to protest but Dick cut her off. "Babs, I grew up with Bruce, I can handle difficult."

"Where is he, anyway?"

Dick shrugged. "I do not know."

Dick and Barbara discovered that Helena had met Cassie in the kitchen. They opened the bottle of wine and made small talk until Cassie had the meal ready. It was only then that Bruce showed up.

He didn't even sit down, he said hello to everyone and started to grab food. Before he could leave, Barbara spoke up, "Bruce, we have a guest." Dick recognized the voice; it was the Oracle telling you how things were done.

Bruce just brushed it off. "I apologize for leaving, Miss Troy, but I am having my meal with the man who raised me. He is too sick to come down or he would have gladly eaten with us. However, I do hope your meal and your stay. Perhaps, I'll be down later."

He left. Barbara and Cassie looked pissed. Dick just finished his glass of wine. He was used to the old man pulling this kind of shit. He looked at Helena. She had a calculating gaze focusing on where Bruce had just left. Dick was a little confused, but relieved she didn't seem offended.

Other Bruce's bad manners, the dinner went off without a hitch. Cassie was a quick study, and learned how to cook well under Alfred's tutelage. The conversation ranged from learning about the only unknown guest to the past humiliations of Barbara and Dick. When the meal was finished, Barbara and Dick helped clear the table while Helena asked where she could find a bathroom.

As they sat in the kitchen drinking coffee, Barbara mentioned that she should get going. "Where's Helena?"

"She went to the bathroom." Dick noticed the time. "About an hour ago."

Cassie hadn't said much all day, but her ears perked up at this. "She could find things."

They spilt up to search for her.

* * *

Dick finally found Helena in the study, looking at the portrait of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He was a little confused. His confusion increased when he saw Bruce standing beside her. He stopped himself from going in, hoping to discover some answers.

"They were great people. They did so much for Gotham."

Dick was surprised the words had not come out of Bruce's mouth. He almost didn't hear her question.

"Does it ever stop hurting?"

He could hear the pain. No sad topics had been approached at dinner, and Dick had been slightly impressed by her ability to avoid any mention of her parents, seemingly over it. Apparently it was on her mind more than she let on. He knew the answer as well as Bruce, who answered truthfully, "Never."

She gave a snort of a laugh. She tore her eyes from the painting. "I just found out they weren't even my real parents. My whole life was a lie. You would think that would matter more."

Dick saw that Bruce was at a loss. Comforting others was not a strength in his impressive inventory of them. Dick was at a loss too, why was she so readily opening up to Bruce of all people? He put it aside though, and decided to rescue Bruce. "There you are! Barbara wanted to know if you were ready to leave?"

She would have made a brilliant actress; already the sadness had left her eyes. "Of course. It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne." She held out her hand.

Bruce accepted it gently. "The pleasure was entirely mine, Miss Troy."

With a flick of hair she left. Dick was one of the few who would have actually caught the flash of pain crossing Bruce's face. It did not mean, however, that he understood the reason behind it.


	7. How Will History Remember You?

Chapter 7 Tis the Season (or How Will History Remember You?)

**A/N: In my world Jack Drake didn't die or loose his business and Bruce never officially adopted Tim. And never worry about leaving too many reviews; they're like Milk Duds- there's no such number as too many and they only encourage me ;) **

Some cities were just built for things. Paris was where a person went to fall in love, Hollywood to feel like a star, and Metropolis to feel small against such colossal buildings and happenings. Gotham was a city of extremes, you were either the very best or the worst, and there was no such thing as a middle ground. Christmas was made for cities like Gotham. Despite the high crime rate, tourists flocked in to see the city outdo itself every year.

It just annoyed Helena.

Granted it was probably the no plans on Christmas thing, rather than the Santa display in the toy store. She wished she could be putting in work at the hospital, but the downside to working in the offices rather than being an on-call doctor is that the offices are generally closed on major holidays. She finally empathized with people who weren't Christian. When she was done with her "errand" she'd have to get some Chinese ala "Christmas Story".

Helena's "errand" came from the realization that while Christmas sucked for her; most people were at home with family or out drinking with friends. It afforded her a rare opportunity to do something she'd been trying to do for weeks. Get the confidential adoption papers from the Gotham Hall of Records.

They should be public, but apparently not all were. At least not according to the bitchy lady Helena had been haggling with all week between school and work. In Helena's view, records are public and if some underpaid government employee isn't going to give them to her, she'll just take them.

So instead of spending Christmas unwrapping overpriced, overdecorated presents under a gaudy tree, Helena was learning that crawling in air ducts is not as easy as it looks in the movies. It's hollow tin that is extremely hard to keep quiet crawling in. Next time, she would study the blue prints longer for a better point of entry.

'Next time…where the hell did that come from?' Helena wondered as she came to the air duct she would make her graceful descent from.

Anyone who saw said graceful descent would seriously doubt the black-clad figure ever was in gymnastics, let alone qualified for the Olympics. She looked around the room. Instead of being greeted with computers and perhaps even some file cabinets, she saw urinals.

If they didn't give it away the smell would have, how could she not tell it was a men's room from that alone. With no desire to return to the sardine can, she decided the rest of this little adventure would be conducted on foot. Thanking God for her photographic memory she began flipping through blueprints trying to figure out where she was as she slipped out the door.

It didn't take her long to figure out where she was and within a matter of minutes she was searching for the confidential files containing her adoption information. She had yet to met anyone and wondered why she even bothered with stealth. It was Christmas, what kind of loser would be guarding the place?

She got her answer after only finding which agency her parents used. She was lucky she even saw the beam of light coming down the hall. Making up for her earlier lack of grace she quickly and smoothly propelled herself to the ceiling, bracing herself up in time for the lonely guard to check out the mysteriously running computer. He looked at the running machine and shone his light wildly around the room, squeaking, "Who's there?"

Helena rolled her eyes. Did he really expect an answer? Still she could think of nothing worse than getting caught by some fidgety guard would seemed likely to piss himself over his imagined foe.

Turns out she didn't have to imagine, things got worse all by themselves. Once the guard got over the potentially real fear, he began acting out his victory in conquering the would-be-thief, acting as a strange mixture of James Bond and Batman. Helena didn't have the time or patience for this crap. After awhile he started surfing the web, looking at questionable websites and dancing a little too enthusiastically to bad music.

When he left, hours later, Helena lowered herself from her hiding spot. Her arms ached but she the one in her head was far more pronounced. She knew she should really search more, but after that she could not get out of the building fast enough. She tossed stealth aside as she ran for the nearest exit. Chinese, she needed some Sesame Chicken and fried rice immediately.

* * *

The aristocracy were an interesting breed of people. World wars, aliens, demented clowns; nothing fazed them as long as the champagne flowed in generous amounts. Generation after generation produced distinctively different people and yet the traditions remained the same. Which is why the only remaining Wayne threw the same Christmas Ball that was thrown as far back as recorded history could recall.

As far back as Tim Drake could remember the guest list was pretty much the same too. Sure the actual people invited year to year changed, but it was the same families, business leaders, and nuevo rich of the day. Of course, Bruce Wayne had to attend his own party as well, along with his nurse.

Tim always felt mixed feelings seeing Cassie. He had decided to hang up his cape after college, Cassie didn't. It was the turning point in their relationship the ultimately lead to a break-up. Still, Tim couldn't help but feel something for the woman who understood him in a way, even his wife couldn't.

The mixed feelings were not helped by the fact that he currently saw Cassie engaging in a conversation with his wife. Other than himself, he knew of no common ground between the two women. It made him nervous. In fact he couldn't think of a worse sight until he saw Laura Luthor (Lex's daughter from his third marriage) making a beeline for him.

He wanted to duck out somehow, but was pinned by a fat, inebriated man who was always quick to use his title as a third and a group of gold-digging debutants hanging off the newest billionaire on his left. He found he had no choice but let her pitch her business proposal to the head of Wayne Industries yet again.

"Tim Drake, I am so happy to see you."

Tim forced a fake smile to return hers. He took a moment to study her, searching for a true compliment. She was dressed perfectly as always, with just the right amount of class, cleavage, and power. If it weren't for her last name, Tim might have been forced to admit her beauty. "Laura Luthor, you look great as always."

She leaned forward with a whisper. "Have you thought about what we discussed?"

Another thing Tim was forced to respect was her ability to get straight down to business. She exercised her subtly in other areas. "For the last time, Wayne Industries has no desire to work with a Luthor."

She gave a small pout that Tim might have found sexy or endearing on a different woman. "I'm truly hurt. I would think a compassionate man such as yourself would be a little more receptive to second chances. I have worked hard to scrub away the taint my father left on the Luthor name."

He wanted to roll his eyes but managed to downgrade it to a grunt laugh. "You mean the taint caused those dastardly plots that always included the death of Superman? Yeah, I'm pretty sure your brother is carrying on that legacy."

Her eyes hardened to steel. "I have little control over my younger half-brother."

"But you help him."

She gave a little smirk. "Prove it, Mr. Drake."

He truly wished he could, but the evidence was circumstantial at best. Tim blasted on though, unwilling to let her win anything. "You visit him whenever he lands himself in jail, and he always escapes shortly after."

Her eyes never lost that cool edge. Didn't even flinch. "My brother may be a fool, but he's the only family I have. Is it so bad that I visit him?"

Tim finished his drink, finally giving him an out. "Still, Wayne Industries is not yet willing to ally itself to Luthorcorp."

She stopped him before he could get away, handing him her card. "Here's my card anyway. Think on it, Drake. I can play nice or I can wait until the old man retires and buy up all those stocks."

He stopped cold and adopted his version of the Batman voice. "Bruce Wayne would never allow it."

She gave another little smirk and lowered her voice to a menacing tone. "Despite fucking every woman in Gotham, Bruce Wayne has no heir, not even an illegitimate one. He has no one to leave his company to. Who is there? That cop son? His nursemaid?"

Tim stood up taller. "I'm here."

She leaned in further, speaking near his ear almost like a lover. "Your father can't stay CEO of Drake Industries either, Timmy. Blood beats all. Do you really think that Bruce Wayne is going to allow you to run his family's legacy under the name Drake?"

"Are you threatening me, Laura?"

She pulled herself back, facing him again. "No. I'm stating my observations and intentions. Call me. Wayne Industries is weak and I won't be the only vulture around to pick up the pieces, but I'm willing to play nice while it still has some strength. Think on it. You could do worse."

She walked away. Tim thought on her disturbing words. He'd known the truth of them for a while now, but didn't think anyone else had seen the weakness. Only years of being Robin gave Tim the ability not to jump when Bruce's voice snuck up on him.

"She's dangerous."

Tim took a moment to compose himself before answering. "No more than Lex was."

Tim turned to face Bruce, and saw the calculating look that was more familiar behind a cowl. "No. Laura Luthor learned subtly, something her father never did. It's not an accident there's no definitive proof she's ever followed her father's footsteps in anything but legit business."

Tim shrugged. "She's got her brother for that. He got all Luthor's ego minus the brain to back it up. Think she'll ever succeed and we'll live in a world without Superman too?"

Bruce ignored the implication of the word too. "I think Jason is better suited to her than Clark would have been. He never learned much about subtly either."

Tim gave a small chuckle. "Jason doesn't know too much about subtly either, he's just an investigator."

"Like his mother."

Tim had no desire to even touch on Bruce's relationship with Clark's wife, so he changed the subject. "Speaking of Jason his favorite reporter is here."

Gina Vale had caught his eye earlier. Jason dislikes Gina almost as much as Laura because as a journalist, she should be better. He calls her bloodthirsty with no principles or standards. Though he wasn't as connected as he used to be, Tim knew Jason blamed himself for Cardinal's death, thinking his father never would have let it happen, and refuses to let her out anyone else in his league.

Bruce dismissed her. "Miss Vale will find no story in Gotham."

Determined to get a rise out of Bruce, Tim threw one more thing out before leaving him to refill his drink and join his wife and ex, "Selina Kyle is here too."

It was only slight stiffing of his back and narrowed eyes, but Tim counted it.

* * *

Bruce knew she had been invited. He had no choice; she was now the chair of the board of directors of the Gotham Art Museum. The best they'd ever had in fact. She managed to get pieces that were thought to be lost forever. Some of pieces that Bruce suspected went missing because of Selina.

He never could quite figure out if she was helping the museum out of atonement or boredom. She had gone legit for the few years they dated, and just never went back. She claimed to Bruce she couldn't face Batman as a criminal anymore.

Bruce couldn't figure out if she was telling the truth or not.

He never really could figure out Selina, period. It was what he loved and hated about her. Furthermore, his feelings for her were just as alluding. Even tonight, he jumped from wishing to seeing her and hoping she didn't bother to show.

But she was here. He just needed to find her, or wait for her to find him.

It was like being back on a rooftop.

* * *

Cassie could care less about Meredith Drake's little girl, Dedre. She probably should care more about Tim Drake's daughter, but she could only feel for the man, not the offspring he had with this woman. Cassie had gotten some pleasure from Tim's nervous look when he saw them talking, but she didn't actually start the conversation with Meredith to rile Tim, she just didn't know all that many people here. That didn't stop her, however, from enjoying the feeling of his watching his eyes on her.

She did not enjoy watching him encircle his arms around his wife, though. Meredith giggled, leaning back into him. Tim pretended to just notice Cassie, "Hello, Cassie. Is my wife behaving herself around you, or will I have to contradict every story she told?"

Meredith gave him a light smack on the shoulder. "You and your ego. You didn't even come up."

They continued to flirt. Cassie wished she could force up a smile, but it just wasn't in her nature.

Tim took on a more serious tone. "Cassie, Bruce was looking for you."

She nodded and left. It wasn't until she spotted Bruce that she realized she should have excused herself. Manners would never be her strong suit. She finally caught up with Bruce. "You wanted me?"

He seemed distracted. "What? No." He looked around before focusing in on Cassie. "Wait. We should leave."

Cassie eyed him suspiciously. The only reason he had come was to see Lucius, and she knew Bruce had yet to really speak to the man. "You want me to go get the car?"

He rejected that idea. "No. I can't do that." Cassie moved to leave but Bruce managed to catch her arm. "Have you seen Selina Kyle?"

His behavior finally clicked in Cassie's mind. She was about to respond in the negative when she caught sight of the woman behind Bruce. She managed a smile before Selina's own silky voice responded. "You found her, stud."

* * *

Bruce whipped around faster than should be possible. Cassie moved away from them but kept her eyes on them. Catwoman was the one villain Batman had trouble handling.

Bruce let his eyes fall over Selina's figure like they always did. As far as he could tell, the only effect time had on Selina's appearance were some wrinkles around her eyes and less provocative clothes. "Selina."

She gave a little smirk. "Present."

Bruce never could appreciate her strange sense of humor. "It's been a while."

She took a sip from her champagne glass, keeping her eyes on him. "Some would say far too long."

He gave her a soft smile. "How have you been?"

Her eyes danced. "Good. Yourself?"

The smile evaporated. "I walk with a cane now."

Selina's eyes narrowed. "I can see that."

Bruce studied her face. "How's the art business?"

She shrugged. "Can't complain."

"I would think it would be less beneficial than previously."

Her eyes flashed in anger, but she quickly recovered. She heard the start of a new song and the mischief returned to her eyes. "Hey, handsome, how about a dance?"

Bruce tightened his grip on his cane. Nearly forty years and her teasing still got to him. "Don't know if I can, what with the cane and all."

She flashed those green orbs that seduce him so. "Don't worry Bruce, I won't let you fall."

So he led her out to the floor.

Bruce didn't like touching Selina. Okay, that was a complete lie; he loved it. But every time they got this close he was transported back to other moments they were this close, which encompassed a lot of moments in their extensive history. Every grabbed wrist, blocked high-kick, and inappropriate grope in the darkness. Every completely appropriate grope in bed, soft whispers of fingers and lips against skin, and brushed away hair to see those irresistible eyes. Every wet thumb from brushing away tears, stinging check from breaking her heart again, and clenched fist from not running after her. Everything blurred with her, enemy and lover, past and present, good and bad, and Bruce had no control over any of it.

He was convinced it was her eyes; those green pools a man could happily drown in. They were all-knowing, stripping down everything before them while keeping their own secrets well hidden. Bruce never understood why every writer in history was so damn obsessed with waxing poetic about eyes until he met Selina Kyle.

* * *

Cassie watched the pair dance. She could see them talking but they were moving too much for her to get a good reading to know what they were say. She would never let Bruce's weakness befall her. She would never let herself fall for the enemy. She had loved once. That was enough. Love was too dangerous; it can destroy you if your not careful. She was so wrapped up in her musings she didn't even hear the commissioner approach her until he started talking.

"Hello. I'm Ethan Grant. Who are you?"

She was surprised he was talking to her. She had actually grown to know him as Batwoman, but he had no idea that's who she was. Cassie couldn't quite figure out what Ethan Grant would want to talk about with Bruce Wayne's nursemaid. "Cassie."

She turned her attention back to the couple; not noticing the hand Ethan offered her in greeting. Selina was laughing. "I'm sorry to bother you but you seem to be the only other person here who isn't a member of the press or wait staff, or filthy rich."

Cassie turned her attention back to the Police Commissioner. So that was his problem, he felt out of place. "I'm Mr. Wayne's nurse." This time she did shake his hand.

He seemed pleased. "Bruce Wayne? I've heard about him. Has he treated you inappropriately?"

Cassie scowled. "Of course not."

It bothered her to no end that after all he did for the city, for the world, Bruce Wayne would be remembered as nothing but a dumb playboy turned lecherous old man.

Ethan was smart enough to know when to drop a subject. "So, did you get what you wanted for Christmas?"

All Cassie wanted for Christmas was a gift-wrapped Riddler. "Not exactly."

Ethan studied her for a moment. It was a long enough moment that Cassie felt the urge to glare at him. "You don't talk much do you? Are you shy?"

She turned her attention back to Bruce who was starting on a second song with Selina. "Not really."

Ethan chuckled a bit to himself. "Most women I know are only too eager to talk a man's ear off."

She looked at him again. "Well, I'm not most woman."

He gave a deeper laugh and leaned in with a whisper. "I could tell that from across the room."

Before she had time to respond, Killer Moth burst in the door. Ethan's eyes focused in on the Rogue. Cassie's eyes found Bruce's in the crowd, and by the time Ethan returned his attention back to the woman he'd been talking to, she was gone.

* * *

Tim could not understand why anyone would ever emulate Killer Moth. Talk about lame villains. Cassie had him beat in twenty minutes, and it would have been five if the Moth hadn't taken a hostage.

He almost mentioned something to Meredith, but she was still scared by what she considered to be a dangerous encounter. So, she probably wasn't exactly his best option.

He nearly sighed as he turned his SUV into the parking garage. Sometimes, he wished he would have stayed. Stayed as a vigilante, stayed with Cassie. He had seen her talking with Ethan Grant earlier, and it bothered him more than he'd like to admit.

**A/N: So I need to stop doing the majority of the work on these in one night and submitting them right after so I can make them better. Fixing typos and adding more development. Sigh. Someday I might go back, but for now my not-so-perfect system will do. **


	8. Cold and Alone Again

**Chapter 8 Cold and Alone Again**

The bad things about spending a good amount of time in a cave is that it's cold and empty. Bruce usually didn't mind these things. In fact, to him that was part of a cave's charm. Tonight, though, it was bothering him. The cold always made his knee ache more. He had wrapped up three cases and Cassie was out doing the legwork, catching criminals.

It all bothered him.

It wasn't so much that Cassie was out while he had to stay in. He was self aware enough to admit that he did miss the adventure and the adrenaline, but he did not miss the worried nights and morning afters. Too much of his time was wasted on worrying about how many more would die in the Joker's plan and recovering from fear toxin or Ivy's "charms". It was more the fact that despite her intelligence, Cassie had yet to show a true interest in detective work. She was a wonderful Batwoman, but Bruce knew she was doomed without the detective side of it. He was having a hard enough time being at peace with the situation, but if she didn't fully embrace her life, he could never rest.

He looked at the clock. Midnight.

Happy New Year.

Had it already been a week since the Ball?

He couldn't stop thinking about it, about her. Alfred had known as soon as he walked through the door with his soup.

_"Miss Kyle was at the Ball wasn't she, Master Bruce?" He gave a weak smile._

_Bruce gave a rare genuine one back, setting the tray down carefully for Alfred to eat while sitting in his regular chair beside the bed. "How can you always tell?"_

_Alfred took a spoonful of homemade squash soup, his favorite. "I knew there was a chance she would be invited. It wasn't so long ago I planned that event, you know." He took another sip. "You always were so distracted after an encounter with her, even before you really knew who she was." Another sip. "How was she?"_

_Bruce gave a snort that counted as a chuckle for him. "She was Selina."_

_Alfred smiled. "I was always so fond of Miss Kyle. Never as much as you, of course…"_

_"Alfred…"_

_He took another sip of soup. "It's not my business, sir."_

_Bruce looked lovingly at his oldest friend. "When did that ever stop you? You meddled as much as any parent."_

_The sat in silence for a moment, letting the gravity of his words make their impact, the only sounds filling the room were the gradually intake of soup and the clock on the mantle. Bruce was the one who broke it. "Do you think they would be proud of me? Would approve of how I chose to live my life?'_

_Alfred set down his spoon. "Your parents would have been proud of you no matter what you did with your life Master Bruce. But yes, I think they would be, just as I am."_

_Bruce shook his head, standing up. He struggled for a bit and nearly fell right back into his seat but grabbed his cane just in time. "I made a lot of wrong decisions, Alfred. Many I know you didn't approve of."_

_Alfred waited to speak until Bruce turned to look at him. "You did the right thing more often than the wrong, which is all any good man can do."_

_Bruce looked out the window. He watched the wind and snow beat against the unmoving pines in the distance. Silence came again._

_This time it was Alfred who broke it. "You know I wouldn't mind a visit from Miss Kyle. She could always brighten up any situation."_

_Bruce continued to stare. "She doesn't know, Alfred."_

_"She's a bright woman, I'm sure she will."_

_"That's what I'm afraid of."_

_A moment passed. "Which she are we speaking of Master Bruce?"_

_"Both."_

_"I wouldn't mind a visit from the other as well."_

_Bruce turned to face his old friend. "Maybe, Alfred."_

Bruce's eyes blinked coming out from his memory into the present. Despite what he said, Bruce knew Alfred always had a secret desire to see the boy he raised raise a family of his own, and it was never much of a mystery who he wanted that family to be with. Alfred always thought that as soon as Bruce's mission ended, his real life could begin. All those necessary sacrifices could be rectified.

Bruce knew Alfred just couldn't understand. The mission wasn't over. It would never end, and the sacrifice would never stop.

Bruce worried that Cassie didn't truly understand that either.

* * *

Batwoman watched as another criminal was put behind bars. Bruce would be pleased. Three more criminals off the streets of Gotham, until some slimy lawyer got them out anyway.

Perched high above the rest of Gotham, Cassie loved even the bitterly cold winds that made a dramatic whipping of her cape and hair, but also chilled her bones. She did not, however, love being left alone with her thoughts.

Tim looked good.

She hated thinking about the one that got away, or rather walked away. She still couldn't get over him just walking away from everything, to just give up the hero lifestyle like it was nothing. Like it was a choice more than a calling. And for what? To become another businessman climbing the corporate ladder. He couldn't even excuse it as taking over the other aspect of Bruce Wayne's life, for when all was said and done he would be returning to his father in Drake Industries. There was already talk circulating.

"Cold night."

Cassie stiffened but refused to let the Commission sneaking up on her show. "Shouldn't you be at a New Year's party like everyone else?"

He grunted, taking out cigarette. Cassie snarled at the habit. "I work as much as you. It's my city too after all."

They stood in silence. He motioned to the police station across the street, "Thanks for your help tonight. Every night."

"It's my job."

"It's really not, but any help is appreciated."

Another moment of silence passed, and again the commissioner broke it. "We're not so different you and I."

Cassie held back a sigh. She did not need this tonight. During their past few meetings, the commissioner had gotten flirty with her. It wasn't something she was well equipped to handle—she usually just ran away when he started—but tonight was different. Maybe it was the memories of Tim and regret, but tonight she didn't run. She stayed. "Is this the part where you tell me how good I look?"

He gave a soft chuckle. "No. With any other girl, but you wouldn't be swayed by that."

She finally looked at him, narrowed green meeting amused blue. "And what would?"

He stepped closer. "We are people of action, not words." He kissed her.

She gave in.

She didn't want to be alone tonight.

* * *

Dick barely heard what Superman was saying. His concentration was solely focused on the pain in his back and not letting it show. Since when did a double handspring give him anything but a thrill?

Barbara was right; he was getting too old for this. He'd have to retire soon, and then Cassie could come to these things.

Yes, the Justice League saved the world and yes it was important to have a human/Gotham hero represented, but Dick was about as patient as Bruce in the discussions around saving the world and picking times for watch duty. They'd won, why was Superman so eager to talk? It was logical just to have their meeting now rather than return tomorrow, but Dick was suffering from an injury.

Not that anyone knew that.

That was the second thing he didn't like, he always felt like an old man at these things. Other than J'onn he was the oldest one here. Everyone else was the kid of a hero. Technically so was he, but it still wasn't his generation. How did J'onn manage this?

Dick looked at the other members in the room. Standing at two spots away was Jason Kent aka Superman. Giving his big Superman speech. Clark must be proud. Not that he didn't have good reason too. Jason had somehow gotten the best of both worlds inheriting the good qualities of both his parents aside from a weakness to kryponite. Dick usually even liked and admired the kid when he wasn't up on his soapbox.

Next to Jason was a full-fledged alien, Martian Manhunter J'onn J'onzz. He hadn't changed a bit over the years. Dick figured it was the alien DNA, and that he probably aged differently. Hell, he'd probably still be in the Justice League a hundred years from now. It was his family. Kind of a sad existence when he really thought about it.

Next to him, was Aquaman's daughter, Marina. She was a nice, pretty girl who was much less temperamental than her father. That's about all Dick ever thought about her.

On his other side was the other girl in this Justice League, Iris West, the Flash. (See, Cassie would fit right in with the girls.) Daughter to Wally West, Dick remembered when the girl was in diapers. She had grown but was still considerably young. Young enough that he got phone calls from Wally concerning his little girl and her dangerous lifestyle choice. Dick laughed him off, but also secretly thought that Wally was right to worry. The girl may look like her mother, but she acted just like Wally.

A father should be worried.

This left Black Arrow (Black Canary and Green Arrow's son Conner) and Warhawk (Green Lantern (John Stewart) and Hawkgirl's son Rex), they were exactly what you would expect. Warhawk could use a sense of humor, and Black Arrow could spare some of his.

Another fifteen agonizing minutes later the meeting came to a close and Nightwing rushed out. He really needed to be alone right now. He ignored J'onn calling his name. He'd find out later. Right now there was a med kit and a bed calling his name.

* * *

The house was so empty. It was times like this that Helena regretted her decision to switch her rent payments to morgage ones, but she wanted to keep the house. When she found out that college was taken care of, she figured she could afford the house as she ditched gymnastics for paying work. She just wished the house wasn't so empty, and she could enter the dining room without smelling blood. Maybe it had been a huge mistake to keep the house, but she wasn't ready to let it go.

She had spent the last few months in almost total isolation. She had a few friends from class or gymnastics but no one close. Just people to smile at and make small talk with when met. No one to call to come over and soothe her loneliness.

That's why she was so surprised to hear her doorbell ringing.

She was even more surprised by who was behind it.

"Happy New Year!" Barbara handed Helena a noisemaker and pushed passed her. Helena studied the steps in front of her house wondering how Barbara managed that before closing the door.

While she had looked on at nothing, Helena saw that Barbara had managed to already make it to her kitchen. By the time she got there, Barbara was studying the books on her table with a sort of glazed over look. "Barbara, are you drunk?"

Barbara's glazed look focused. "No. Of course not."

"Well, I am not exactly uses to visits at two o'clock in the morning."

Barbara shrugged. "You'd be amazed what you can get used to."

Helena wondered about that. Why would a librarian be so used to late night visits?

Barbara continued, "Besides, it's New Year's, everyone is up late." Barbara studied the material on Helena's table more closely. "What are you working on?"

It was the information Helena had gotten on Christmas, she was going to give it to Barbara eventually, but still couldn't think of a good story as to how she got it. "Nothing."

Barbara grabbed the papers before Helena could. "Doesn't look like nothing." She read them. "Helena, how did you get these?"

Helena stammered for awhile before finally giving in and telling her the illegal truth.

Barbara's reaction? She smiled. "Helena, do you remember Cassie at Thanksgiving?"

This was not the reaction Helena expected. The knowing smile unsettled far more than if Barbara had started dialing the cops. She trotted carefully on this dangerous ground. "Yes."

Barbara gave a nod and went to arrange some books on a table. "I was thinking that it might be a good idea for you to learn some self-defense. Cassie is an expert."

"I thought she was a nurse."

"You can have more than one skill set." Barbara moved on to the book pile.

"Actually, it's part of the reason Bruce hired her, she's a chef, chauffeur, bodyguard, nurse, and maid all in one."

Helena remembered all the stories she'd heard about him. "Not to mention she's a beautiful woman he can ogle."

Barbara annoyed instantly. "Bruce isn't really like that."

Helena wondered at her too strong reaction. Bruce Wayne was certainly handsome, even at his age. Did Barbara have a thing for him? "How do you know Bruce?"

Barbara sighed. "I dated his son, Dick. We bonded."

"I didn't realize Dick was that young, or Bruce that old."

"They're not. Dick was adopted."

"Oh." Helena thought about her own status as an adopted child, maybe Bruce Wayne was just a good guy who got a bad rap. "Funny that's not mentioned more. It would show a more charitable image."

"The Wayne Foundation is the best charity in Gotham. It's society that has misplaced morals, not Bruce. It's not his fault people care more about his sex life than his real one."

It made sense to Helena. After all, she'd only gotten glimpse of Bruce but none of them match the view she'd known. She thought of his parents. Maybe their son took more after them than she used to think. "I think you're right about that self-defense thing. Make the arrangements."


	9. Falling, Feeling Down

**Chapter 9 Falling, Feeling Down**

Ouch. Helena picked herself up from the ground, again. She had mastered everything she'd ever attempted in her life--this would be no different. It was just taking a bit longer than she expected.

Helena had figured it wouldn't take her long to learn how to fight. She was a quick study and learned complete muscle control before her age reached double-digits. She'd never not been in shape and had always been considered one of the best gymnasts in the world. For Pete's sake, she was practically an Olympian!

She had grossly underestimated the demands of Cassandra Cain.

Cassie didn't say much but her methods of teaching made her Russian coach look soft by comparison. She looked at the new bane of her existence taking a drink, obviously taking a break after laying her student, opponent, whatever Helena was, out once more. Helena studied her more closely from her spot sitting on the ground. They had been at it for about forty minutes and the woman had yet to break a sweat. Helena wondered how that was even possible. True, it was forty degrees out, but her face wasn't even flushed. By comparison, Helena was panting, each exhale forming a white cloud of escaped breath.

A new determination flowed through her as she stood up. Helena had to beat her. It would happen today. She would earn a victory today, even a small one.

* * *

Alfred looked out the window at the girls below. He thought it was a tad chilly for them to be practicing outside. It was February after all, and just because there is no snow on the ground doesn't mean its not too chilly to be outside without any kind of wrapping. They didn't even appear to be wearing jackets, only headbands and gloves. And those leggings and long-sleeved shirts were much too tight to provide adequate warmth. Surely, Miss Cassandra was used to the chilly conditions thanks to years in a bat suit, but Miss Helena was another matter entirely.

Alfred sighed. He wished he could watch closer, and actually see the girls as more than figures. He abhorred violence and really had no interest in the beauty of the women. He just wanted to see them. He had yet to meet Miss Troy, and was most eager to.

"Alfred! What are you doing out of bed?"

A smile crept at the corners at the old butler's mouth. They were Martha's words in Thomas's voice. It was amazing how much Bruce gained from his parents, despite their too short time together. "I cannot remain on that bed for the rest of my days, Master Bruce."

Alfred turned slowly. Bruce had already put down the prepared meal and was walking over to help bring Alfred back to bed. It took a little over ten minutes but Alfred had gone the six feet and Bruce tucked him back in. Alfred couldn't help but remember when it used to be him tucking in his young charge, staying with him until he slept to ward off nightmares as best he could. "Why did you even bother buying the walker if I was never expected to use it?"

"Don't be like that Alfred. I just don't want you to exhaust yourself by moving about. It takes too much energy." Bruce looked concerned.

Alfred took no small amount of pleasure in it. Not that Master Bruce needed anymore pain in his life, but perhaps it was fitting that he could finally see what it was like to have someone dear to you do something so physically taxing, not unlike dressing as a bat to battle psychopaths. "Can you blame me for wanting to see our new guest?"

Bruce gave a small grunt, bringing over Alfred's soup. "She'll be coming around more often now, I'm sure you'll get to meet her properly sooner or later."

They sat in silence. Alfred glanced over at Bruce, who seemed content to brood. Bruce was never a conversationalist, but usually they had some conversation in these moments together. Something was off, but Alfred couldn't quite place what.

After several failed attempts to get Bruce out of whatever depression he was in, Alfred finished his soup. Bruce gave him a copy of the Gotham paper and took away the tray, grunting a good-bye before letting the door close behind him.

Alfred prepared to read about the recent happenings of Gotham when he saw the date and realized what was bothering his not-so-young charge.

"Happy Birthday, Master Bruce."

* * *

Cassie felt the impact of Helena's kick when she blocked it. Cassie had originally tried to go easy on the girl, but found quickly that Helena had as much trouble as her when it came to holding back. The girl threw everything she had behind every punch and kick. Cassie was happy to see there was no need to start from fresh.

Helena was coming along nicely. Barbara was right; the girl was born to be the next Batgirl. Cassie had only three real training sessions with her and she was already impressed. What that girl possessed surpassed determination. The girl didn't allow herself anything but perfection. Cassie read a combination of confidence and determination in every move made.

She could see the therapeutic aspects of it as well. Physical aggression, after all, was a great way to work out any mental and emotional problems. Helena seemed to become more clear-headed and focused the longer she fought on. She blocked a right hook, but had her own kick dodged.

Another thing that impressed Cassie was Helena's intelligence. When Barbara had first suggested she train her, Cassie was quick to do a through background check. While the brush-ins with the law and missing pieces worried her a bit, the nearly perfect academic record overruled some of those. Even without the knowledge of her high test scores, Cassie recognized that Helena never made a mistake twice.

Cassie tripped and pushed Helena straight into the ground with a large amount of force. Once again, defeating her.

Or so she thought. Helena regained her footing faster than ever and with that surprised managed to best Cassie with a boot resting on Cassie's chest and a smirk on her face.

Cassie felt a surge of pride. Yes, Helena was coming along nicely indeed. They could quit for the day. She gave the only compliment she felt necessary. "Good."

* * *

Sixty. Is this where Bruce had pictured himself at sixty? Going over old case files in his Batcave? Barely able to walk without using a cane?

Truthfully, had Bruce ever really expected to make it to sixty?

"What are you doing?"

Bruce attempted to close what he was looking at, but there was no way Cassie could've missed the profiles: Joker, Riddler, Ra's Al Ghul, Hugo Strange, and Catwoman.

"You shouldn't be down here. Helena could've followed you."

Cassie said nothing. She simply went over to the next computer station and brought up the night's patrol. Bruce's scowl deepened.

"What?"

Cassie looked over at Bruce. "I didn't say anything."

"That's the problem. You should have been defending your actions before moving on."

"Would it be so bad if she did see the cave?" Bruce said nothing so Cassie continued. "She's a good fighter. I could use the help."

Bruce got up and straightened up to his full height. For a moment he returned to his former terrifying glory, growling the words, "Helena will not be putting on any mask or cape."

It took a moment for Cassie to recover. "That's her choice not yours, Bruce."

"She doesn't need to be pulled into this."

Cassie opened her mouth but closed it again, reconsidering whatever she was going to say. "Why were you looking at those files, Bruce?"

Damn. He had hoped she was going to ignore that. "It's nothing."

"Is it that Vale woman? The reporter?"

What? Is that what she thought he was concerned about? "No. It's nothing."

Cassie gave Bruce one more studying look before walking away. Bruce didn't bother to watch her enter the vault and come out as Batwoman. He only heard the roar of the Batmobile as she drove off.

* * *

A cruel smile passed the man's lips as he was informed of the girl's progress. She would be ready sooner than he originally thought. He saw another man approach him, a curious look on his features. He snapped the phone shut. He got what he needed from the speaker.

He gave a short bow and looked the other man in the eye, pleased with his progress and seeking approval from his elder. "Excellent. My sources inform me that we are ready to begin Phase 2."

Unfortunately the other man was not as pleased. "Don't you think you're moving kind of slow, son?"

The younger man gave it a moment of consideration before responding. "Better slow and right than fast and with regret."


	10. Call Me a Sinner, Call Me a Saint

A/N: Okay, this chapter may be choppier than most because I've kind of lost my train of thought in this story. Damn natural disasters have a way of messing up the creative process. Fair warning, I don't do riddles, so I apologize in advance for its terribleness.

**Chapter 10 Call Me a Sinner, Call Me a Saint**

Seven months. Seven months and nothing to show for it. Finding Helena's birth-parents should not be this hard. Everything Barbara came across led to a dead end. Someone had definitely covered this up, and that someone did a damn good job to Barbara's frustration. She was meeting the girl tomorrow and she had nothing.

Barbara took an aspirin. She had a firm rule that when it starts to hurt, it's time to change subjects. So she gave up on the confusing paper trial that was the adoption process to focus on something much less frustrating: a Riddler clue.

_Made famous by a sinking Hollywood and Vine_

_The object of the word tawdry you can find me behind_

Barbara rubbed her head. She was going to need another aspirin.

* * *

The Riddler twirled his cane as he strolled around in the jewelry story, like he was taking a leisurely walk rather than breaking several laws. While he preferred stealing high-tech equipment to simple thefts of money and jewelry, he had bills to pay just like everyone else. Also, he did rather enjoy it when no mindless muscle was required. He could take the time to enjoy himself this way. He looked into a display case, he couldn't take anything else tonight as he'd already sent the clue, but there was never any harm in looking. He caught a reflection of himself in the glass.

The Riddler thought it was ridiculous that anyone could actually believe he was the first Riddler's son. He looked nothing like him, other than the cane and green color scheme. He was much taller and thinner, wore black and white make-up rather than a domino mask, and had long black hair rather than short red tucked under a bowler cap. While he'd been a fan of the original Riddler, he always thought the problem was respect. No one feared the Riddler. Granted, the reason he took to him so much originally was his lack of mindless killing or mindless anything, but it wouldn't have killed the man to learn a karate move or two. This Riddler was not about to make the same mistakes. He was new and improved.

He moved on, shaking away thoughts about the Riddler name and legacy. It was time to collect his prize: the Heart of the Ocean, the real diamond necklace of the movie _Titanic_. In less than a minute he held it in his hand. He turned almost giddy enough to skip out when he saw that too black shadow.

"I finally got you."

The Riddler straightened up. He'd been waiting for this moment. He inched his hand up to the question mark handle of his cane, ready to grandstand on the level of rogue legends. "I don't think it counts until I'm in Arkham. Took you long enough to figure out one of my riddles, I've been trying to make the easier for you."

Most would have taken her silent response as her being through talking; but the Riddler figured it was something else. He began laughing. "You didn't figure it out, did you?" He stopped laughing and wagged his finger. "Tsk. Tsk. Batwoman. So disappointing to find you're all brawn and no brain. Certainly not living up to our predecessor are we?"

She noticed his hands, one fiddling with his cane and the other with the necklace. "Said the Goth nightmare posing as Riddler."

He gave a devilish grin, moving to a defensive position. "The problem with the old Riddler is that he was all brain and no brawn, which did poorly against a foe that had both. Though I now see you have no brain, I over-compensated preparing for the old and learned both as well."

Suddenly Batwoman attacked, pulling a bow staff from somewhere hidden beneath her cape. The Riddler was quick to defend himself, pushing a button turning his cane to a staff and blocking the hit.

They began to dance. She swung around her staff and he ducked. She threw out a fist and he dodged. It didn't take him long to figure out that she was a much better fighter than him. He wasn't worried. He'd still walk away from this fight and escape into the night.

She attacked with her staff again and he blocked again. Bring her face closer and pushing against his staff to show her superior strength, he gave her another grin. He quickly turned his head and pushed another button. A small puff of smoke emitted from the top of his weapon, and Batwoman began coughing.

With her grip weakened, the Riddler swung his staff around like a bat; bring it down on her head. She fell to the ground. He stood above his defeated foe. "I assure you, this time around the name Riddler will be feared in the streets of Gotham." He pushed his staff back into a cane, and walked out of the store.

* * *

Cassie tore down the lane leading to the cave. She could feel the throbbing from the point on her head where the Riddler hit it, not to mention the hangover from whatever chemical he'd blasted her with. Ethan had to wake her up with smelling salts when he arrived. It was beyond embarrassing. She'd run out of there, fleeing from her damaged pride. Nothing like that had ever happened to Batman. How had the Riddler gotten the drop on her in the first place? It was the riddle. He knew she hadn't figured it. Oracle did. He didn't know that of course, but those comments about measuring up to Batman got to her. His stupid comments weren't supposed to get her; she was better than that.

By the time she'd made it to the cave she'd worked herself into such a froth over the whole thing, that Bruce was probably the last person she should have been seeing. Her insecurities and wounds were too fresh. Not only was he waiting for her, but he had an interrogation and subsequent lecture ready too.

She'd opened the hatch and stepped out when he started. "What went wrong?"

She ignored him, going to the vault to remove the cowl and cape, but Bruce Wayne was not a man to be ignored. He badgered the whole story out of her, word by word. "You didn't figure out the riddle for yourself? You can't do that Cassie. You can't pawn all the detective work off on Barbara and myself."

Cassie had been sitting at the computer, minus cape and cowl but still in uniform. She'd looked like a scolded schoolgirl before, but looked up with a fire in her eyes. "I can barely read his riddles, Bruce! How am I supposed to figure them out?"

"It's not all about fighting Cassie. It's detective work. Figuring out the truth."

Cassie had had enough of this. "I'm not you Bruce. We can't all be the World's Greatest Detective! Maybe you would have been better off cloning yourself!"

Bruce glared. "Fine. Let's talk about fighting. He bested you there too."

"He didn't fight fair."

"Because villains are known for fighting fair."

She threw her hands up frustrated. "He blasted me with some chemical. How was I supposed to fight that?" She turned back on him. "I seem to remember you falling victim to a lot of chemicals in your day."

He crossed his arms, taking the accusation in stride. "I also found antidotes to almost all of them."

Cassie sat in her chair again. She spun around to face the computer screen. "Get out of my cave, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Your cave?"

"I'm Batwoman, aren't I?"

"It's my house."

"I live here too."

Bruce deepened his voice to what used be known as a Batgrowl. "I'm Batman, Cassie."

He evened his voice again. "And don't you forget it."

He turned to walk away, and Cassie shouted after him. "No one will let me!" She held her head in her half opened hands, trying to hold back tears she rarely had, and whispering to herself, "I can't escape it."


	11. Knew More Than Most

**Chapter 11 Knew More Than Most**

More watching. He supposed it was slightly better this time because he had some company. Five of them crammed into the mid-size sedan. Since he already been pulling surveillance duty, he got to claim seniority, namely he got to drive the car. If not for the fact that anyone looking in could see that all the men had necks as thick as their heads, they just might have passed as inconspicuous. It wasn't the company that changed his boredom to suppressed excitement though. It was the fact that this time they had been promised some action. They wouldn't just be watching the girl go from place to place.

One of the newer guys in the backseat was playing the latest version of a portable gaming system. He had the sound turned off, but the tapping of the keys was driving the man in charge nuts. He took action. He grabbed the small device to the player's protests. The driver then opened the door just enough to crush it on the pavement.

The car was quiet now.

The driver gripped the wheel tightly, desperate for some action.

* * *

"Hey Cutie."

Barbara Gordon felt two soft lips on her check to go along with the greeting. Still, her typing fingers didn't falter. She didn't see whose lips and voice were teasing her so, but took a wild guess on the owner anyway. "Hello, Dick. What brings you here?"

Dick pushed aside some papers and leaned against the edge her desk. His inability to sit in a chair like a normal person was a habit that always annoyed Barbara. She suspected that was exactly why he did it. She refused to even turn from her computer screen to glare at him though. "Business."

"Bat or cop?"

"There's a difference?" At his teasing, Barbara granted him that glare. He smirked victoriously but grew more serious as she finished her research. "I'm following a lead. Tell Cassie if she needs an extra hand tonight, Nightwing will be around."

Barbara turned and smirked now, finished with her work. "Referring to yourself in the third person? You really are turning into Bruce."

Dick answered her teasing with a glare of his own. "I came to ask you to lunch but I think I just changed my mind."

"Can't handle the truth Dickie?"

He leaned in closer, looking at her intently. "Is that a wrinkle I see, Babs?"

Barbara turned away, serious again. "I'm not the one who needs to worry about getting older."

Dick sighed. "I'm only forty-five, I've got plenty of time Babs."

"Plenty of time for what? Plenty of time to get yourself killed?"

"I quit the league."

"Only because you were fed up with the business side of it."

"Babs, I don't want to have this argument again. I just wanted to have a nice meal with you."

She didn't want to have this argument again either, but she didn't want him to end up as another fallen hero for the cause. The thought of it unsettled her more then she was willing to admit. Especially since she told him they missed their chance when he tried to propose to her after her father died. "I can't have lunch with you. I've got to work in twenty minutes."

"Rejected." Their eyes met again. The tone shifted to a lighter one. "Well, at the very least let me give you a ride."

"And how am I supposed to get home?"

"Well, what time do you get off?" He paused with a leering grin. "Work that is."

Barbara smiled in spite of herself. "You've been spending too much time with Roy and Wally."

He laughed. "Actually I haven't seen them in weeks. Must have just accumulated over the years."

"I'm off work at ten, but if you really want to drop me off I can find a ride home. I've got the entire Justice League on rolodex after all."

"God knows Superman has nothing better to do than act as a cheap taxi ride for you."

She gave him a smack on the thigh. "Keep that up and I'll leave you to fend for yourself." She rolled to her bedroom fetching her coat and purse. Dick waited in the living room. She yelled out to him. "What are you planning on doing with your afternoon anyway? Spend some quality time with Bruce?"

She got back in time to catch his grimace. "Actually I was thinking of swinging by Wayne Industries to bug Tim." He held the door for her.

"You know there's a slight chance Bruce might be in the building with his name on the front." She rolled through the doorway.

"I'll have to visit with him sooner or later, it's his city after all. Just think Tim will be better company for lunch."

Dick let the door shut behind him.

* * *

He spotted the girl walking quickly across the campus. She glanced at her watch and pulled up her falling her bag. She looked to be late for something, but not in a real hurry to get wherever it is she's needed.

The phone rang. The driver answered it. "It's time. Give her a little scare. Find out her skill level."

The man gave small, devilish smile. Closed the phone and signaled his men. They get out of the car, heading in different directions, but with the same destination.

* * *

Helena always suffered from a healthy dose of paranoia. Even before notes in blood and lying parents she was just waiting for some bad guy to jump out behind the corner. However, since her parents' deaths her paranoia sharpened, having some reason and cause behind it. When you are left a cryptic note in blood, your irrational fear of a knife-welding maniac out to get you becomes a bit more reasonable. So in her heightened state of awareness it didn't take her long to notice the big man following her.

She tested it, taking a few wild turns, and still he followed. She didn't really get worried until she spotted the second guy.

Then a third.

When a forth approached she found herself surrounded and decided it was time to put irrational paranoia aside, and run. They followed, funneling in after her.

She might have been able to shake them off if not for her bag banging against her back. She refused to ditch it though. The five hundred dollars worth of textbooks could be replaced but not the nearly finished assignments or notes from lecture heavy classes.

She pushed whatever got in her way and managed to notice a fifth man had joined them. Their bulk made them slower, and Helena thanked the chance of rain today for making her wear tennis shoes rather than flip-flops.

She spotted the library and rushed towards it, seeing it as her salvation. If her mind had had another second to process it, she might have wondered how a handicapped librarian was going to help her with five spokesmen for Steroids Are Us.

* * *

Barbara was gathering up her information for her meeting with Helena. She knew she was missing something. She could just feel it. Part of her thought about asking Dick before he left, if just for an excuse to keep him with her for a few more minutes. Everything about Helena was familiar. It was like she already knew the answer, a secret from years ago, and she just wasn't connecting the dots.

It was all so familiar and all so frustrating.

It was at that moment that Helena burst through the doors.

She looked scared and flushed as she pressed herself back against the doors, like she was running from something and was now trying to keep that something out. "Help me."

The resounding bang that followed her plea only reassured Barbara's feeling that Helena wasn't the type to over-react to a harmless problem. She sent out a distress signal to Dick. He'd only left five minutes ago, so he wouldn't be far. He also knew Barbara well enough not to question her over-reacting to a situation either.

Seconds later Barbara realized how bad the situation truly was when five big men shattered the wooden doors around Helena. One of the men made a grab for Helena who ducked and ran into the science fiction section. The men pursued her with a reckless abandon but Helena evaded their attacks with a surprising amount of skill and grace.

Barbara was forced to sit behind her desk and just watch Helena get attacked and her library get destroyed. She never missed the action of being Batgirl, but Barbara absolutely hated just watching helplessly. Barbara desperately tried to think of something to do to help keep Helena okay, at the very least until Dick arrived.

Barbara was impressed with what she saw though. Helena had trained with Cassie for a little over a month and she was doing quite well. Her ducks and occasional hits showed a perfect combination of grace, beauty, and strength. The image sparked the old flame of recognition in Barbara. Suddenly, she knew where she'd seen Helena from before she met her.

Dick made his entrance in that moment to everyone's surprise. Though Barbara's shock wasn't over the broken skylight or a Bludhaven vigilante in Gotham daylight, it was Helena. Helena used the men's new-found focus on Nightwing to escape next to Barbara who was still staring at her. Helena might have noticed if not for the fight.

Nightwing was in full form. All five men were bigger than him, but he'd already taken one out and just managed a second as well. He blocked a high kick but the force of it made his back jerk.

Barbara might have noticed the wince of pain across Dick's face if another noticing hadn't had her complete attention. Helena. Helena looked so familiar. So like her. Helena now stood beside Barbara now watching the end of the fight as the men retreated from Nightwing carrying away their injured, but Barbara couldn't take her eyes off her.

The face was wrong, the cheekbones too high, face too narrow, and eyes too blue, but the rest was her. How had Barbara not noticed the striking resemblance before? She no longer needed a piece of paper to identify who Helena Troy was, hell, Barbara herself had helped hide her. Helena Troy was Selina Kyle's lost daughter, found.


	12. Going Straight to Hell

A/N: My world's Selina Kyle is closer to Chris Dee's version (my favorite) than the comic one. Basically, I'm getting rid of Catwoman's supporting characters because it's my world and I can. Mahwahahaha

**Chapter 12 Going Straight To Hell (Dare To Take On the Simple Life)**

Selina Kyle did not sign up for this. It was this kind of crap that kept her out of legitimate work for so long. She was currently walking around the painting gallery of the museum chatting with the gallery manager. When the too chipper woman said she was having a crisis, Selina assumed there had been of threat of thief or damage to at least one of the paintings. Turned out, it was more of a 'my boyfriend doesn't understand me' crisis. Why on earth she picked Selina to talk about it with was beyond her, Selina had gone out of her way to keep their relationship strictly professional. Selina feared the young woman had decided she was her role model, or even worse a mother figure. She was sorely tempted to tell her about her notorious past, if just to frighten her away a bit. As was, she was just walking as quickly to her office as she could without making it noticeable.

As the girl chatted away about her boyfriend not calling when he told her would, Selina began to rub her temples. That just made it worse since she felt the wrinkles that had started forming at her eye edges. She did the anti-wrinkle cream but that wasn't keeping them at bay anymore. While Selina wasn't adverse to surgery she didn't want to look constantly surprised either.

"And he started talking to his ex-girlfriend Gina again…"

Selina wanted to tell her that as long as he's not dressing up like a bat any problems he has can probably be worked out. She stopped herself from saying it out loud though, finally she seeing her office in sight. "Listen, Jamee…"

"It's James."

When did that become a girl's name? Whatever. "James. I am the last person you should be asking about this kind of stuff. I only had one serious relationship in my life and it ended badly."

"How badly?"

"I threw a vase at his head and stole his Jag."

The younger woman looked stunned. "He had a Jag?"

"Three of them, actually. That's not the point, don't you have a mother or someone to talk to this about?"

"Yeah, but she doesn't know anything. You just seem like you'd be the better person to talk to."

Selina felt a stab of something. Guilt maybe. She remembered the brief period she had played a mother and took pity on the girl. "Just go over to your man's place, fuck his brains out, and then voice all your concerns. It's the only time you can get a man to agree to anything."

Not sticking around to see if the girl was offended or enlightened by her solution Selina shut her office door. Though she did hear a scream of thanks, or horror.

* * *

Barbara sat next to Helena and wrapped an arm around the girl reading the folder containing everything about her birth parents. "Are you okay?"

Once Barbara figured out the connection between Selina and Helena the rest of the information was easy to collect. Barbara had wasted all those favors on a DNA test for nothing. The only hard part had been telling an already shook up Helena who was still studying the file containing her birth certificate and backgrounds on her parents. "She's very beautiful, my mother."

Barbara let go of Helena and wheeled around so she could face her instead. "Selina's still gorgeous. You inherited some good genes, kid."

For the first time since the folder had been placed in her lap, Helena looked up. "How do you know her again?"

Barbara sighed. "That's a long story that is a little more than either one of us can handle right now."

Helena nodded looking through the file again. She stopped at a picture of herself as a newborn, looking at it carefully. Barbara spoke with a warm smile, "You were a beautiful baby."

Helena looked away for a moment. "My adoptive parents told me all my baby pictures were destroyed in a fire." She turned to Barbara. "Did you know my as a baby?"

Barbara tried not to be too sad for Helena's sake. "Not really. Just a few visits here and there."

Helena spoke softly, "Did you know my father too?"

Barbara shook her head. "Not really. Enough to recognize him maybe, but no."

Helena went back to her file. "Guess it's too late to really know him then."

Barbara quietly nodded along. She'd already seen that Sam Bradley died over eight years ago. She broached the next topic carefully. "Helena, I think you should talk to Selina."

Helena grasped the folder just a little tighter, a less observant person wouldn't have even noticed, but Barbara did. "Thank you for all your help, but I think I need to be alone right now."

Strange. Now that Barbara knew who Helena's parents were she wondered how she never saw it before. That strong manner wrapped around a lost girl desperate for something to cling to and cry. She knew there wasn't anything she could do so she started to move away, but stopped and turned her head before leaving the room completely. "For what it's worth, Selina was a great mother and had very good reasons for giving you up Helena."

Silence and sadness were all that were left.

They didn't stay long though, leaving with a suddenly determined Helena.

* * *

Selina was about ready to leave early, she finished up a note to herself about calling that dealer tomorrow and then got up to pack up her bag. She had hoped to finally to be able to pick up that elusive dry cleaning. Then the phone rang. "Hello, Selina Kyle."

"Catty, it's Pam."

Selina sat down, mentally crossing off any hope she'd had on picking up dry cleaning today. "Don't call me that, Pam. I don't steal art anymore, I display it."

"I won't even start in on the irony of you switching sides. I'm just glad that overgrown weed, Batman, didn't have anything to do with it. Did you know everyone once had bets going how long it would be before you'd fuck him?" Selina could hear the cruel smile. "I won. I knew you would never lower yourself to such a man."

Why did it always have to come back to Batman? Selina could feel her lip snarl at the mention of Batman. Perhaps because Pammy mentioning him brought out Selina's old Rogue, or that technically that Pam didn't win that ridiculous pool. Pam always had a talent to bring out Selina's claws. "Pam, I'm in no mood. If just want to reminisce about the old days, I'm hanging up."

"It's Eddie."

Selina stiffened. She always worried the cancer could come back.

"He's intolerable about that imposter, Selina. He's over here now complaining to me and Harvey. I had to get away. You should hear him go on."

Selina tuned the rest of the rant out. She'd heard enough of Eddie's ranting about the imposter to know. Selina had always figured the friendships formed in the Rogue gallery were temporary things. After all, even when they partnered up for that week's Crime of the Century' when the cops or Bat showed up it became everyone for themselves, and partners would be thrown in front of the bus if need be. Time had proven they were a little longer lasting than that once the crime was over.

Still, Selina found them annoying at times. Ever since Harley's disappearance after the Joker's death, Pam got the idea that Selina was her new best friend. Selina wasn't thrilled that her closest friends consisted of the retired Two-Face, Poison Ivy, and Riddler. Unfortunately there weren't a lot of other options. She didn't really like any normal people. Sure, she was sort of friends with the Bat family too, but with her history with Bruce made it too complicated.

"So he's going on and on about this goth wannabe and Harvey's glaring at me like this is my fault. Like I'm the one who invites him over to drink beer, watch sports and reminisce! I mean, really why can't they go over to his place?"

Selina decided on stating the obvious. "Because Eddie's got a crappy television, only keeps one kind of liquor that nobody likes in house, and he's the one who gets lonely."

"If you and Eddie would move in together like me and Harv he wouldn't be."

Selina could practically see the scheming smirk on Pam's face. "For the last time, if anything was going to happen between Eddie and me it would've happened before requiring Viagra."

"He's only sixty-three, he might not need it yet. Besides I just meant to keep each other company."

Selina softened her voice, her thoughts drifting from Edward Nigma. "We're both too proud for that."

Over the phone Selina heard a door banging, then a growl. "How dare you leave me out there. Leaving me to the dogs, this is worse than that time with the tulips…who are you talking to?"

Selina hear an argument and a struggle for the phone. Harvey won. "Who is this?"

"Meow."

"Selina." He sounded surprised. Selina wasn't sure why. "Selina, get over here and save us. We swear if we hear another riddle, we're going to kill him."

Selina remembered her few stints as an unwilling hostage negotiator, "You're not going to kill him Harvey because I'm not going to put you up whenever her greenness and you fight."

"Like hell we won't. We may be retired but we still have a .22 around here somewhere. Or a shotgun, two barrels, that may be better. He won't even feel any pain. It'd be merciful."

Selina listened to Harvey argue with himself and Pam throwing in her two cents in the background. Just when she was ready to hang up on the lot of them she heard another entrance.

"What are you all doing in here? Who is on the phone?"

Harvey grumbled something about more questions but before Selina could even roll her eyes she was speaking with a slightly inebriated Edward.

Ten minutes later and he was still going. "He doesn't even wear the hat! It's as much of a signature as the cane, green or question mark!"

Selina really hoped Harvey and Pam had made their escape by now. She wish them vengeance for unleashing this upon her, but then again they'd been subjected to it for a far longer time. "Well, he doesn't really need it Eddie, he's not balding."

That really set him off. Selina decided just to hang up as he went on about how it's a perfectly natural thing turned into a complex by impossible beauty standards.

She still didn't even have time to grab her purse before the phone rang again. She was irritable and would not be subjected to the whinefest again. "Listen, Eddie I didn't throw this much of a hissy fit when Catman came to town and I was still practicing. Seriously, grow up!"

The voice on the other line sputtered, surprised. The female voice. "Selina, this is Barbara."

Crap. While the many of the Rogues seemed to keep Selina on speed dial it was rare to get a call from the Bat family anymore. "Sorry. What did you want Barbara?"

She sounded nervous. "It's kind of important Selina."

A little yelling shouldn't shake her up this much. "I don't know anything about the new Riddler and I really don't want to talk about it with the old one."

The nervousness didn't go away. "It's not that. We should probably do this in person. It's pretty serious…"

Selina straightened. "Is it Bruce?"

"No, it's just. Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?"

Selina calmed a bit but still was edgy about the urgency in Barbara's voice. "Sure. When and where?"

"As soon as possible." Selina could here her moving around. "Just let me check on something first and…Damn! Where did she go?"

Selina did get to ask who she was talking about, a woman walked into her room. A woman who looks were like a past reflection and whose eyes made Selina gasp.

"Selina Kyle?"

Selina was thankful her voice stayed steady. "Yes. Who are you?"

"Helena…" She paused like she was going to say something (presumably a last name) and changed her mind. "I'm Helena, your daughter."

Selina felt the phone slip from her fingers and crash on the floor.


	13. There's You

A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone for their kind reviews. Remember that little button at the bottom people; I'm a review whore just like everybody else and it makes me update faster :)

**Chapter 13 There's You**

For a moment the world stopped. The two women just stood looking at each other. Selina usually prided herself on her ability to remain outwardly calm in almost any situation, but she could not force her body to relax from its tense pose or get her eyes to stop widening. Helena was just as tense but rather than shocked eyes hers were measuring up. It was Barbara's voice coming from the floor that caused the moment of tension to snap. Selina was shock out of her trance and picked up the phone.

"Selina! What's going on? I need to tell you…"

Selina glanced at her daughter again, her eyes fixed again. "I know. She's here."

She snapped the phone shut and invited Helena in. Helena calmly strolled in and sat in one of the chairs across from her mother's desk.

Selina envied her calm manner, closing the door. She had envisioned this moment of her daughter's return for years. She just never decided if she thought of it with joy or dread. She always thought she'd figure out when it happened.

She was wrong.

She soothed down her suit trying to regain her composure as she took her spot of power behind her desk. She looked at her daughter, those eyes. Selina looked away. She could not focus on those eyes. It was too much.

Suddenly, it was all wrong. This was not the place to be doing this. Selina was too used to playing business queen in this position. She feared that her bloodthirsty and logical attitude were the last things she needed for this conversation.

Her daughter's voice was businesslike. "So did you ever love me at all or just not enough to get an abortion?"

Jesus, this kid didn't beat around the bush. Selina felt maybe this would be the best location, somewhere she felt powerful. She placed her hands on the expensive cherry oak, as if trying to gather up some power from it. She steeled herself before looking into those too familiar blue eyes. "You shouldn't speak to your mother that way."

Helena's eyes narrowed. "You haven't earned the title of mother. You're nothing but an unfamiliar stranger to me."

"Then you shouldn't speak to strangers with such disrespect and distain either." Selina could feel her temper rising. She lowered her eyes, trying to get it under control before speaking again. "So did Barbara find me, or did you?"

"It was a team effort."

"Funny, I would've guessed you like to work alone."

"I'm not you, Mother."

The rage returned. Selina clenched it down again. She had no right to be upset. Her daughter did. She kept her voice even blocking out every emotion running through her, from the consuming love and the irrational fear born from motherhood. "What do you want, Helena?"

There was a pause before she answered with twitch of her lip. "Any history of family illness I should be aware of?"

Selina let out a snort of air. "Live a normal life and you'll die fast, live a fast one and you'll die slow."

Helena's brow twisted and confusion and Selina stood, walking over to where she kept a small supply of booze such a case as this. "Would you like something to drink?"

Helena blinked away her confusion. "Rum if you got it."

Selina looked at her with a perfectly arched eyebrow. "You're not old enough."

Helena kept her face blank, fighting between anger and surprise. "You remember my birthday?"

Selina went back to making her drink. "Honey, someday when you ruin your five hundred dollar Manolo Blahniks when your water breaks and then spend fourteen hours pushing out your child you will understand that you can never forget that day. Now, Coke or Pepsi?"

Helena turned away from Selina for the first time since entering the room. "Water, if you got it."

Selina finished fixing her drink and grabbed a bottle of Avian for her daughter. She placed the drinks down and sat again. She took a sip before asking, "What do you really want to know, Helena?"

Helena made no move to take her water. She just stared at the droplets falling off it. "Why? I just want to know why?"

Selina took another drink. "It's complicated."

Helena slammed her hand down on the desk next to the water that no longer held her attention. "Well, I would fucking hope so! I would like to think someone wouldn't give up their daughter for nothing."

Selina downed the rest of her drink, slamming the glass on the desk. She quickly rose to refill it. "I didn't let you go because I didn't love you. I gave you up because I loved you so much."

Helena's voice wavered for a moment. "Funny way of showing it."

Selina replace the cap of her bottle with more force than necessary. She took up her drink again but instead of returning to her chair she stepped behind it, studying the painting behind it. She had bought it ten years ago from a street artist. It was simply titled "Pain" and while Selina's critical eye tore it apart, her gut loved it. She took another drink before turning to face her daughter again. She returned with the natural grace and confidence that was her signature. She resumed her spot in her chair with the same flair of a queen returning to her throne. She set down her drink. "If anyone ever tries to give you advice or describe the feeling of parenthood to you Helena, they are full of shit. There is nothing to describe it. I had you for a year, my daughter. A year of full of messy diapers, spit-up, non-stop crying and sleepless nights that I wouldn't change for the world. Never doubt it when I say I love you."

Sadness gripped Helena. "Then why?"

Selina took another drink. "What do you know of the notorious underelements of Gotham? The rogues and the Dark Knight?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Selina traced the edge of her glass with a manicured finger. "It funny how the public view of it gets so distorted. Sometimes making it too dark, usually making it too glamorous. Insane murderers dressed to brightly and heroes in darkness. It was a dangerous world, no place for love."

Helena briefly wondered if it was a habit of her mother's to talk so ambiguously. "What are you talking about?"

Selina abandoned her glass and seat, getting up and walking over to face Helena. She let the back of her fingers softly brush against Helena's cheek. "I was Catwoman and I made a lot of enemies there in the underworld. You were in danger the minute you were born. I thought I could protect you. I was wrong and almost paid the ultimate price when you were taken and nearly killed. I choose to lose you to other parents rather than death."

For another moment the world stopped, words hanging in the air.

* * *

"If I could turn you attention to the posted fourth quarter profits, I would like to point out the three percent increase in revenue is misleading, as our expenses increased by two point five percent. Therefore, only showing an overall profit gain of point five."

Tim wondered if it was really possible to die of boredom. If it was, than this man could be deadlier than the Joker with a squirt gun. He let his mind drift, but it didn't go far, only to earlier that day when he met Bruce with some unsettling news.

Bruce and Tim always held their meetings in an unused conference room. This practice came from several minor power struggles in each man's office when they would both try to position themselves behind the desk. Tim suggested the final solution, so they were in a boardroom with several more seats than they needed. They sat next to each other in the middle of the large table, and Bruce reading reports and Tim trying to figure out how he was going to tell Bruce some very unwelcome news.

Bruce put down the folders and regarded Tim. "It all looks good except I think you are throwing far too much money away on the further development in hover cars."

Tim shrugged. "People want hover cars."

Bruce wasn't going to be dissuaded. "People don't know what they want, they just have seen too many movies. It's just like laser guns."

"Which we developed five years ago. Bruce, it's not a terrible idea if we can solve the fuel efficiency problems."

"Or what fuel to use period."

Bruce moved to leave, but Tim stopped him. "Bruce, wait. There's something I need to tell you."

Bruce leaned his cane back on the table and gave Tim his full attention. Tim took a deep breath before continuing. "My father has been going to the hospital for tests lately. Yesterday he got the results. He has an inoperable tumor in his left lung, probably from when he smoked in his youth. The doctors gave him five to ten years. I have to leave Wayne Industries and go take over Drake Industries."

Bruce sat for a moment. "I'm sorry about your father but why does this mean you have to leave? Wayne Industries could buy out Drake and then you could take over both."

Tim shook his head, rising from his chair. "I can't do that to my father. Drake Industries is his legacy; I have to continue it for him. You're a second father to me Bruce, but you are second."

Bruce sat in silence for a moment. "How much time do you need?"

"I want to be gone within a year, but I will give you two to find a replacement. Bruce, I'm sorry for the position this puts you in."

Bruce abruptly stood, grabbing his cane with authority. "Don't apologize for you decisions. It's a sign of weakness."

Hours later and it still weighed on Tim's mind. He knew he was making the right choice, but he also knew by making it he'd all but abandoned Bruce and his legacy.

And Tim had always secretly criticized Dick for leaving Bruce.

* * *

"You were Catwoman?"

Selina studied the confused admiration on Helena's face. "Yes."

Helena accepted the answer with a nod but her face didn't change. "So were you really a…"

She didn't continue the question but Selina understood what she was asking from her embarrassed look. "I was never the man-hater Pamela was but she was right about how the rogue women were always portrayed so weakly next to the men."

Helena's face took on a look of new confusion. "Pamela?"

Selina held her daughter's eyes. "Poison Ivy. Yes, the male rogues were just crazy but the women were weak victims. Just because people can't believe I became Catwoman without an abusive husband, crime lord father, or pimp, for that matter."

Helena stayed quiet for a moment before tentatively asking, "May I ask why you became Catwoman?"

Selina shrugged. "Money. I wish it was more romantic or interesting, but then I wouldn't have been the only sane rogue. I was orphaned at a young age and I wanted my security back. Besides, I was good at what I did, one of the best."

Helena noticed the far away look and pressed further. "What was it like, being Catwoman?"

Selina sat down, the dreaming look still present. "Amazing. There's nothing quite like feeling the wind on your face from a thousand feet up in the air. That glorious feeling of flight that comes in a controlled fall. That marvelous kick of adrenaline from fighting and running. It's in the blood that need for excitement."

Then Selina caught Helena totally off guard.

She purred.

Helena recovered quickly, seeing her opportunity to ask her real question. "What was my father like?"

Selina instantly stiffened, her eyes hardening. "He was a detective."

Selina rose, not meeting Helena's eyes again. Still, Helena pressed. "I figured that much out. It's just he's dead, I wanted a little more."

Selina faced her painting again, effectively shutting Helena out. "I didn't know he was dead."

Helena got up from her own spot. She walked over to stand at her mother's side on the right of the painting, trying her best to face her mother. "What did you know about him?"

Selina turned from Helena's gaze. "Your father is kind of a tough subject for me, Helena."

Helena reached out and touched her arm. "Just give me something else."

Selina faced her daughter again, giving her cheek another soft caress. "You have his eyes."

For a brief instant Helena leaned into the caress but immediately caught herself, moving away, suddenly uncomfortable. "I should go. It's been a draining day."

Before she could run out the door, Selina stopped her, quicker than a woman her age should be, keeping one hand on the door and both eyes trained on Helena. "Helena, I know it takes time to forgive, but I would love to get to know this woman you've become."

Helena gave a small smile. "So would I."

Then she left without another word and Selina settled on her couch with an eerie calm, feeling a need to cry for things she thought were far past.

* * *

It was too much for one day and Helena found she couldn't sleep. So she decided to try what calmed and soothed her mother so, and found that high atop the watchtower of Gotham her blood sang. In finding her real parents, she'd found that missing piece she could never quite place.

Her mother was Catwoman. Helena struggled to remember everything she'd ever heard about the Gotham rogues and the legend of Batman. She wondered if Batman was real, she should've asked. She knew all the stories of Batman and Catwoman too, she wondered about the truth behind them.

She had heard Barbara's voice coming from Selina's phone. Barbara had said they were old friends, or something to that effect, with a complicated connection. Now that Helena saw the pictures and meet the woman for herself she could see the striking resemblance. How come Barbara didn't notice it until she saw Helena fight?

Helena played everything she'd learned over in her head. Placing things together and making careful connections until she was interrupted.

"What are you doing up here?"

It was a cold and frightening voice meant to frighten the criminals of Gotham. Helena was no criminal and turned to face Batwoman without fear.

"Hello Cassie."


	14. Step Into the Circle

A/N: First off, I must say if you have not yet seen The Dark Knight yet, GO! Seriously, I went in with extremely high expectations and was amazed that how much lived up to the hype.

**Chapter 14 Step Into the Circle**

Batwoman paused her approach. "What did you say?"

Helena continued looking out at the Gotham landscape. She noticed an early model of hover car making its way above the streets. Inwardly she rolled her eyes. Hover cars. What a royal waste of time. People have seen too many science fiction movies. She returned her attention to the dark figure behind her. "You heard me."

Cassie dropped the act and narrowed her eyes. "How?"

Helena threw her legs back over from the ledge, posing on it much like her mother once did. "It didn't make any sense. How you all knew each other. Barbara dated Dick. You were Bruce's maid slash nurse slash bodyguard slash whatever, and then my mother…"

"Mother?"

Helena snorted. "Yeah, I'm Catwoman's daughter."

Cassie's eyes narrowed again. While Bruce's obsession now made sense, it opened up a whole new set of questions. The first being that as there was no way he didn't know who she was, why did he not share that Helena Troy was in fact Helena Kyle?

"Like I was saying, it didn't add up. How would you all know each other? I mean, I guess Barbara could've met Dick and Bruce at a ball or something, but that to dating didn't make any sense. Then I find out Dick was an acrobat…"

Cassie interrupted again. "When?"

"I googled him after I met him on Thanksgiving. Well, technically I googled Bruce Wayne and just followed the links to him." Cassie gave a look that might be classified as a glare and Helena shrugged in answer. "I was bored in class."

Cassie gave a solemn nod.

"It was all connected. Barbara a gymnast, you a martial arts expert, Dick an aerialist, and then Bruce Wayne. I knew there was something. I just couldn't see it. Then I met my mother, Catwoman. Barbara knew her. I thought about all the other people who ran around in masks and it clicked. Hell, it's obvious when you really think about it. All that gadgetry? Batman's got to be loaded. Of course, based in Gotham. And Bruce Wayne tops any list of rich Gothamites. His image is the only thing that makes it impossible, and those are so easy to fake. Besides, the man I met was no simpering idiot."

Cassie crossed her arms, unsure if she should be furious or impressed. "Quite the little detective."

Helena met Cassie's eyes with a cold look. "Guess I get it from my father."

A moment of tense silence passed into a time longer than a moment before Cassie decided on a course of action. "We will continue your training in the Batcave tomorrow, it's better suited."

Helena barely had time to process what she said before Batwoman disappeared into the night again. She rubbed her head and then looked out into streets of Gotham once more. This wasn't the worst, best or even longest day of her life, but it topped some list of days of her life.

* * *

Selina was having another glass of red wine while pacing. She looked at the phone sitting on the table again like it was snake poised to strike. She had to make the call.

Instead she had another sip and paced more.

She'd pretty much come to terms with the whole 'lost daughter found thing'. Barbara had been over earlier and talking through it with her caused the initial shock and disbelief to wear off. The reality of the situation of the situation had set in, her daughter was found, and in serious trouble.

Her daughter was in trouble again and she had to call the one person who could help her. The person who had gotten her out of trouble the last time this happened. Bitterly she thought it was only fair as she got in trouble because of…

She stomped down on that thought before it could fully form.

Selina looked at the phone again. She was being ridiculous. It was only a phone call; she was a fully-grown woman. A fully-grown woman who faced off with the worst this world had to offer and lived to tell the tale. She picked up her phone and never had an ounce weighed so much.

The doorbell saved her. She put the phone back down and rushed to greet whoever was at her doorstep.

She shouldn't have been surprised by who it was, but she could feel the shock. She regained quickly and lamely said, "I was just about to call you."

He studied her with cold, calculating eyes. "I'm sure. It's a good thing I'm not a woman or I think I'd still be waiting by the phone.

Two days ago she would have slammed the door in his face for that, but that was two days ago. Now she opened the door wider and walked away allowing him to let himself in. "Do you need a drink, Bruce?"

* * *

Cassie watched Helena fall from the machine again. In her repeated frustration Helena slammed her fists against the mat. Cassie's face didn't change. "Start over."

Helena started again, but Cassie wasn't paying as close attention as she should have been. She was annoyed. Bruce hadn't been home when she got back and was still missing. She wondered if he was deliberately avoiding the conversation she was itching to have with him. She wouldn't put it past him.

Cassie noticed Helena was coming up to the part she was struggling with but this time she executed a perfect flip to dodge it and landed with a gymnast's grace. Cassie nodded, pleased. "Good. That's enough for today."

Helena was walking to the beginning again with a steely determination though. "No. I must do it again. Make sure it wasn't a fluke."

Barbara was right; the girl was born to be the next Batgirl. What that girl possessed surpassed determination. The girl didn't allow herself anything but perfection. Bruce would certainly like her.

Thoughts of Bruce caused Cassie to get annoyed all over again. Helena successfully completed the training machine twice before she was satisfied. Cassie nodded again this time dismissing her for good. "You need to shower and I need to patrol."

Cassie began to walk towards the vault, preparing for her night. Helena followed. "Okay. I'll see you later."

Cassie turned and Helena nearly ran into her. "When is the last time you slept, Helena?"

Helena gripped her bag a little tighter. Now it made sense as to why Cassie would tell her to bring an extra pair of clothes that she would wear to class. She did answer and Cassie took that as answer enough "You will shower and then pick out one of the thirty-two rooms in this house to sleep in." Then Cassie gave a rare smile. "I'll even make you breakfast tomorrow."

Helena was too exhausted to give any kind of argument anyway, so she did exactly as she was told, climbing the endless amount of stairs to exit the cave.

* * *

Helena stretched as she woke. She had the euphoria that can only come after a night of much needed sleep. She got up and dressed quickly. The outfit she chose was a bit more conservative than her usual attire, but it gave her an excuse to wear her favorite necklace of black pearls.

Instead of heading straight for the kitchen, Helena took the opportunity to explore. Hell, she was Catwoman's daughter; she was supposed to be curious.

She found some interesting rooms full of armor, weapons, and other artifacts. The bedrooms she dismissed last night looked vastly different during the daytime.

It wasn't until she opened the door to the bedroom in which an old man was residing she felt the least bit of guilt. Especially when she heard a weak, "Master Bruce?" coming from the bed.

Helena stood in the doorway unsure if she should close and run or greet the old man. The latter instinct won out as she decided it would be terrible of her not to greet the man. She opened the door wider and entered slowly.

Alfred studied the girl. At first he just thought that Cassie had come to visit, breaking from her usual routine of afternoon visits. When he looked closer at the girl though it was clear who she was, the young lady Alfred had wanted to meet for quite some time now. "Miss Troy, I presume?"

Helena a curious look and a small smile when she figured out who he was, "Alfred, we meet at last." She was beside the bed now and sat in the chair next to it, never taking her eyes of him.

Alfred's eyes never left her either. "The resemblance is uncanny."

Helena drew back. "How do you know about my mother? I only found out yesterday! Or two days ago."

Alfred smiled, Helena took after her mother as well but that hadn't been who he was referring to. "Very little escapes me, Miss Troy. Even in these conditions."

Helena grew comfortable again and her smile returned. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

Despite being their first meeting both Alfred and Helena felt as if though they'd known each other for a lifetime, and they both felt lighter than they had in months in the relaxation it brought. Alfred asked the obvious and polite question. "Tell me about your life, Miss Troy."

Helena laughed softly. "I have a feeling you already know more than even I do about that."

Alfred gave her a smile of his own. "But never from your perspective."

He reminded Helena of her grandfather. The one she gave up the Olympics for. She forfeited her chance to compete, despite the overwhelming likelihood of winning, when she heard he had taken ill. She spent hours instead beside his hospital bed, watching him die. She alone was at his bedside when he died. She never regretted her decision. She only told Alfred he reminded her of her grandfather and recalled stories of him teaching her how to cheat at cards.

Neither of them noticed Bruce watching at the door until he decided to make his presence known. Helena stood and faced Bruce quickly like she'd been caught doing something bad. Alfred kept his face blank, unsure of a reaction.

Bruce opened his mouth to speak until he took in Helena's appearance. His eyes widened then focused like a laser on the necklace hanging from Helena's throat. "The pearls."

Helena brought a hand up to the offending item. She couldn't quite stand the intensity of Bruce's stare. Alfred understood all to well what was going on but was helpless to stop it.

Bruce looked away. "My mother was wearing pearls the night she was killed. I can still remember how it broke off her neck, the beads mixing with the blood of the corpse and grim of the alley."

Helena didn't know quite what to say, but she made him look at her anyway. "June Troy's blood was thick and sticky and soaked into the two thousand dollar white Persian carpet she saved money for years to buy."

A moment of complete understanding passed between the two. It was completed when Bruce spoke, "Welcome to the family, Helena."


	15. Jump Ahead Too Far

**Chapter 15 Jump Ahead Too Far**

"This was a mistake," Selina felt she needed to say it out loud, she'd been thinking it for quite some time now.

"It'll be fine," Harvey tried to assure her. "We're sitting in the back, I'm incognito. It'll be fine."

"Yeah until Miss Chlorophyll decides the University is mistreating her precious ivy babies and attacks. Which, by the way, I cannot believe you would feed Eddie to the lions like that."

"Hey, I listened to his new Riddler rant enough to earn the right to pass off Pam's grand plant tour of Gotham U. to him."

"This was a mistake. I should have never told you I had a daughter let alone that her college graduation was today."

"We're your friends Selina. Hell, Pamela even said something about how you'll need support now that your old enough to be a mother to a college graduate."

Selina glared at Harvey for that little comment. "What I don't understand is why she thinks we're such good friends. The woman has tried to kill me before, several times."

"You can hardly hold that against someone in our crowd, Selina."

"I still don't know why you married her."

"I didn't marry her, we just live together. She understands me. It's not like I've got the ladies breaking the doors down. I don't care about her past because been there, done that. The no kid thing doesn't bother me because what would I tell him when a career day came up? Daddy used to flip a coin to decide whether he'd steal and kill or turn himself in. You'd be surprised how much money you can make before Batman breaks a few of your bones and you get locked up in Arkham, little Johnny."

Selina had a smirk that looked like it could break out into giggles at any time. "Little Johnny?"

"I like the name Johnny." Harvey's eyes took on a far off look. "Besides, Pam's ass is as sweet as ever, I think the chemicals did something to slow her aging or the effects of gravity."

The smirk was gone and Selina was glancing through her program. "Not something I really know about, Harv."

"You're kidding right? Everyone knows the only reason you never got thrown in Arkham or Blackgate was because you knew how much Batman liked your ass."

Selina glared, clawing the edges of her program. Harvey continued unaware. "You know that's why I never got the gay rumors. I understand the ones where he's an alien or a clone and robot and all that crap about him being more than a man, but gay? Watch him fight you once. Even Pam. Hell, I bet he even checked out Harley at some point."

Selina's voice took on a deadly tone that once warned of whips and claws. "You know Harvey, just because I'm not Catwoman anymore doesn't mean I've forgotten how to use a whip, or kick someone's ass."

Harvey's mind finally caught up with his mouth. "Did I mention that another thing I love about Pam is her ability to stop me before I get off on really stupid tangents?"

Selina went back to studying her program. "I think that's more of a man/woman thing."

Eddie and Pamela returned. Pam sat next to Harvey and immediately got into all the types of foliage she saw and its possible mistreatment. Eddie sat next to Selina. She handed him a spare program and leaned over to whisper. "If I don't get to meet your daughter today, I may be forced to reactivate some of those old deathtraps."

Selina smiled. "That bad?"

Eddie shook his head. "If I never see another ivy plant again it'll be too soon." They sat in silence for a moment, ignoring Pam and pretending to read their programs. Eddie couldn't stop himself from asking, "Will any ex-boyfriends be attending this ceremony, MI FACT RAY?"

Selina knew whom he was talking about. "I'm not your anything and I don't know if he'll be here or not."

He abandoned the light-hearted tone for his second question. "He's not the father is he?"

Selina's tone darkened as well. "Careful, Eddie."

Then the music started and the ceremony began.

* * *

Helena had been worried that she would have no one to embarrass her at her graduation.

Now she was wishing she'd been right.

She thought it had been bad when Dick started cheering like she'd scored the winning basket when she walked across the stage. Then it got worse afterwards when Barbara couldn't stop crying for some reason as the men awkwardly told her congratulations, looking to the other to deal with the crying woman. Then her mother walked over with her friends and Bruce has had some weird tension ever since, making Helena wish he'd stayed home with Alfred instead of Cassie. Then she actually met her mother's friends and felt she understood a lot more about Bruce's weird stance.

Helena was polite enough not to stare at Harvey's harsher half. She also was polite enough to explain calmly whys he would not be attending Harvard as well as her plans about becoming a doctor rather than a lawyer. She even refrained from telling him that she wasn't about to take advice from him, as it hadn't worked out too well.

This politeness did not extend to the second friend. "You're green."

The beautiful woman arched one of her perfectly shaped red eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Your skin, it's green."

Poison Ivy started to look angry. "My skin is alabaster."

Helena was about to argue with her when she noticed all the looks of no, so she let it drop.

Finally, she turned to the third friend who was studying her like a puzzle that needed solving. His greeting was simply, "You have blue eyes."

Helena looked confused. "Yes. I do."

Edward studied her further. "Dark blue. Your mother has green, but I know someone else with dark blue eyes."

Helena didn't miss the look exchanged between him and her mother. She did miss the glare Bruce gave him. Later she questioned her mother. "What was that all about?"

"Eddie's just trying to figure out who your father is."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

"I don't want to ruin all his fun."

Helena just smiled. "I've got work. I'll see you later."

"You didn't take the day off?"

Helena looked at her curiously. "I graduated. I didn't win the lottery."

As soon as she was out of earshot, Selina mumbled to herself, "Workaholic just like her dad."

A voice sent shivers up her spine in response, "You know talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity."

Selina didn't bother turning to face Bruce. "Which sign is it when you start putting on a mask, wearing tights and running around rooftops?"

"We need to talk."

She did face him for that. "You need to talk? Must be serious." She saw in his eyes that he was. "I'll get my coat."

* * *

Helena glanced at the clock again. Ten minutes. Too late to get started on anything new, and with Nurse Sarah guarding the exit, too soon to leave. She needed to get to Barbara's house. Barbara left a message that she got Helena a graduation gift and she should come by and pick it up. Helena wanted to get out but needed to find something to occupy her time for a few minutes to take her mind off the clock. With the wealth of knowledge of Gotham Hospital at her fingertips, Helena decided to satisfy some of her curiosity.

After all, it was only slightly illegal.

She typed in her biological mother's name. The record showed only a few minor injuries. No record of any baby. Helena thought about how long it took for her to discover the truth, of course the woman registered under an alias. She looked at some of the medical history, blood type, and other idle information. Then she went on to her father, which was much of the same only with a death certificate.

Helena looked at the clock again. Three minutes. By the time she shut everything down and closed shop it should be good. It was then it clicked.

She'd just looked at her biological parent's records and seen their blood types. Neither of which matched hers.

It was no longer idle curiosity. Helena doubled checked. Then tripled checked. Her mother was O positive and her father was A positive.

Helena was O negative. She gave blood and they always got excited because of her blood type.

It's a strange feeling to go from lost to found only to have the rug pulled out from under you once more.

* * *

Barbara checked the clock again. Helena would be arriving any minute now. She went to go get the gift she'd left in her bedroom. When she returned she placed the brightly wrapped package next to the brown envelope. The brown envelope was the now needless DNA test she'd sent away for months ago. Helena already knew the results, but Barbara figured she'd give it to her anyway. Barbara hadn't even bothered to open it yet.

She was drinking tea when Helena arrived. Barbara smiled brightly at the upset looking woman. "You just graduated, you're supposed to be happy."

Helena ignored her, walking over to the gift. "You didn't have to get me anything Barbara."

Since when did Helena call her Barbara? Barbara shrugged it off but was now paying closer attention to her mood. "I know that. Is something wrong Helena?"

Helena ignored her again, opting to study the contents of Barbara's kitchen table instead. Her eyes came to rest on the envelope. "What's that?"

Barbara turned her head to see what she was indicating. "Oh that. Those are just the DNA results for your parents. Useless now."

Helena came alive at those words. Soundless she ripped open the envelope and scanned the results quickly. She paused at something and then took off running, throwing down the papers behind her. Barbara yelled after her about her forgetting the present. She rolled over to her front window to see Helena peeling out on her bike off to God knows where.

Barbara was confused as to what could have happened to cause such a reaction. She picked up the discarded results. She gasped when she saw it:

With a 99.7 percent certainty Helena Troy is the daughter of Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne.

* * *

A/N: I know. Not a real shocker, but then it's not supposed to be the real shocker in the story. Though the fallout should be interesting.


	16. Shadows Cast on Devotion

**Chapter 16 Shadows Cast on Devotion**

Helena's father was not averse to confronting things head on. He knew that there was a death trap, an endless pit, a confusing maze, or some other unimaginable horrible thing on the other side of the door, but still he walked through with brass balls confident he could face whatever they had to throw at him. It was a trait his daughter inherited. She went straight to Wayne Manor.

Do not pass Go. Do not collect 200.

Helena's mother was not afraid of minor breaking and entering laws. For all of her surprise drop-ins, she didn't walk through the front door. Despite knowing that Wayne Manor security was far beyond her not-so-profession skills, Helena took the advice her mother never her gave her on the advantage of surprise.

* * *

The old man fell, clutching at his chest. The dramatic flare he gave to dying reminded the younger man watching of those horrible thespians over-acting Greek tragedies. He didn't know if he should laugh or sneer at the weakness before him. A frail hand reached for him. "Help me, son."

The son bent close to the man, grasping an old head between strong hands, forcing the old one to look him in the eyes as he betrayed him. "Now, how am I to inherit all it is you have to give me if you don't die?"

A look of fury burned on the old man's face, causing the younger man to drop his hands. He was reminded of just how dangerous this all was. "You dare defy me? After all I have done for you."

The young man stood straight again, but his voice had yet to regain its confidence. Softly he said, "You sound like a woman."

The older man was regaining his strength, rising to his knees. "You will regret this day. I am like the phoenix rising from its own ashes."

The young man made use of the sword he'd been hiding, cutting off the man's head. "Not this day."

Another man approached, big, hired muscle. "The girl next?"

The man let a smirk pass his features. "No. Not yet. I have other plans." He sheathed his sword and grabbed the old man's legs, motioning for the other man to follow suit. "But first, we must burn this body. Let him try to rise from those ashes."

* * *

He got away again. The very thought of it stung, but there were more pressing matters. Cassie clutched her side tighter, like the rapid blood loss coming from her side. Barbara was trying to give her direction in her ears, but it sounded like buzzing. Batwoman had to get off the streets. No good could come from her wandering aimless in this state. She looked at the street sign. She knew this neighborhood. Tim lived here. She had to get to Tim.

* * *

"The kids are asleep."

Tim had announced it with a flair of a ringmaster, an impression Dick had once showed him. Meredith Drake simply laughed at her husband's antics. "And people actually admire how goofy you are for the children."

Tim grinned, climbing into his waiting wife's arms. He held himself above her with his arms, nuzzling her check he whispered in her ear, "You love my goofiness just as much as the children."

When he pulled back to look at her again, her face was no longer clouded with amusement, but lust. Tim smirked; thrilled she still got that look after ten years of marriage. She pulled his face closer again, her voice taking on a huskier tone. "The kids are asleep you say?"

They barely got a kiss in before the doorbell rang. Both sighed in annoyance. Tim tried to lighten the mood again, with a smile. "Hold that thought my dear."

He got up, smoothing down his clothes. If this was some Jehovah's Witness he was going to kill him. In fact, if this was anything less than an emergency whoever was at the door was about to get it slammed in their face as he had more important matters to attend to. He didn't bother to hide his annoyance when he opened the door.

Only to have it wiped off his face when he wound up catching a weak Batwoman in his arms. "Meredith!"

He checked Cassie over. It wasn't long until he found the gash. His wife gasped behind him. "My God is that…"

"Go get some clean towels, hot water and the medical kit." He picked up Cassie in his arms. "I'm putting her in our room."

"Shouldn't we talk about this?"

Tim imagined where this conversation could go and he didn't have time for it. "No. We are helping her, Meredith. Now do as I say."

She didn't bother hiding her anger or hurt as she went to fetch the supplies. Tim had no time for that either. He flew up the stairs and was careful to be quiet past the children's rooms. He set the injured woman down on his bed. He double-checked to make sure his wife was still occupied before getting the earpiece out of Cassie's mask. "Barbara?"

"Tim? What on Earth are you doing on Batwoman's channel?"

"She just showed up at my house. What happened?"

"Riddler deathtrap. She's lucky to be alive."

"And the Riddler?"

"He got away."

Tim nodded. If he had the presence of mind, Tim would have been greatly unsettled by the ease in which he returned to the no-nonsense detective mode he'd abandoned over a decade ago. He started to prepare dressing Cassie's wounds. "Why did you send her here?"

"I didn't. I was trying to give her directions to a safe house. She went there on her own."

Tim looked at his first love. He wasn't comfortable thinking about Cassie seeking his help above all others when in such a state. Meredith showed up with the necessary medical equipment, and Tim was grateful for the distraction.

He tried to ignore the looks his wife was giving him as he expertly tended to Cassie.

* * *

"Bruce, I don't know what you want me to say."

Helena had managed to get this far into the Manor without detection. She was proud of herself until she heard the argument. So it wasn't so much her greatness, then her mother's distraction that caused her success. Rather than interrupting the moment, Helena decided to listen in instead. So far she'd only heard vague references to what she assumed to be herself.

"She's in danger and we cannot protect from what we don't know."

"So the great detective doesn't know something and has his tights all in a twist?"

Helena wished she could see them, she could hear her mother's voice moving around the room while her father's was stationary, but she wanted to see the body language. Thanks to Cassie she was getting good at reading body language.

"This is not a joke, Selina!"

"You think I don't know that, Bruce!"

"If someone found out who she was…"

"Who? Who could know?!"

"Your _friend_ was certainly looking at her closely after the ceremony."

"If you are referring to Eddie…"

"I'm referring to the Riddler."

"And here I thought there was a new one."

There was a beat of silence before Helena heard a woman's voice continue.

"As I was saying, Eddie would never hurt my daughter." Helena heard her father try to interrupt but her mother's voice overpowered him. "Besides, killing isn't his M.O. I'm not saying he never killed, but he wasn't a psychopathic murderer with a taste for vengeance. Think about it, when he found out who you were he never really went after Tim or Alfred or anyone close to you."

Helena was more than a little surprised that the Riddler knew who Batman really was. She supposed she may have to rethink her overblown egomaniac impression of him as a Rogue.

"Look. The question right now is not who is after her, but if we should tell her."

Helena took the cue, opening both doors. She saw both of them turn their head in her direction. She hoped she had that cool, confident look people got in the movies during the big reveal moments.

"I think the real question is: What if she already knows?"


	17. My God, What Have We Put You Through?

**Chapter 17 My God, What Have We Put You Through? **

The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Dark eyes sparkled as they watched the pyre like a scene from of movie. It crept the large man standing beside him out. Not that he would ever say anything. He found in his line of work, a silent tongue was key to survival; just because the boss was acting insanely you shouldn't blink, let alone interrupt them with logic or morals.

Still the kid was a dangerous man who creeped him the fuck out. He wondered if the Joker's men went through this crap back in the day.

The kid turned to his newly acquired man, "Now that that little inconvenience is out of the way we go to Gotham to set the stage."

There was no question in the big man's mind that the kid was nuts, but he followed him anyway.

* * *

Cassie woke to a cool cloth pressing again her overheated forehead. It felt nice. Maybe a little too nice. She shouldn't be lying here. She tried to get up but a gentle hand pressed her back to the soft pillow. "Shh. Don't move, you're still hurt."

She knew that voice and slowly opened her eyes to confirm it. "Tim. What are you doing here?"

He looked tired, but tried for an amusement that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You came to me, remember?"

She did. She put her head back against the pillow again but chose to study her nightstand rather than Tim's face. He continued, the tiredness of his face seeping into his voice, "Why are you here?"

Cassie kept her tone emotionless. "I was hurt. You were closest."

Tim rose from the bed. "That's not true, the safe house was the same distance, but you came here."

A silence settled between them. What was once comfortable was now only tense. Tim spoke again, Cassie figured it was because he knew she wasn't going to, "It was reckless. Damnit, Cassie, my family doesn't know about my days as Robin! What if my children had seen you? They are far too innocent for gunshot and stab wounds. I had to send my wife, Meredith, away. We're fighting now. She doesn't want a vigilante bleeding on her guest bed. She wants nothing to do with the underworld of Gotham."

Cassie could see Tim pacing out of the corner of her eye. She remembered he did that when he was frustrated. "You're a vigilante from the underworld of Gotham, Tim."

He stopped pacing. "No, I'm not. I gave that up years ago, Cass. I got married, had a family, and live a nice normal life. You know that. I told you I was going to quit before I even told Bruce."

Cassie chanced a look at him. She had to ask, regardless of the possible heartbreak. "Do you ever miss it?"

He looked her squarely in the eyes. "No."

Cassie felt her heart drop until he continued tenderly, "But sometimes I do miss you."

She only caught a glimpse of his old feelings before he hardened himself again. He walked to the door, throwing cold words over his shoulder, "I'm going to bed. You need to be gone before my children wake up."

As the door shut, Cassie felt like crying, but refused even the slightest amount of weakness.

She disappeared within the hour.

* * *

Selina tried to stop the gapping fish look. "Helena, what are you doing here?" She doubted her success.

A glance over to Bruce showed he did not have that problem; he had that same stony Batman look sans mask. Damn him. Did nothing break that man's cool?

Helena seemed to have inherited that calm exterior. She was walking around the study, briefly playing with whatever her fingers came in contact with, a book here, a paperweight there. "Well, I was wondering why my birth certificate said Sam Bradley was my father when my DNA names Bruce Wayne. Figured I should come straight to the source for the answers. Batman always has the answers doesn't he?" She looked at them now, and Selina realized that barely restrained cold fury was more her than Bruce. It frightened her to see her look reflected in blue eyes. "What was it, Bruce, didn't want some bastard going after your billions?"

Bruce didn't flinch. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

Helena had reached the desk. She stopped playing and faced her parents, pushing herself up to sit upon the desk. It was a surreal experience for Selina. To watch a perfect blend of her and Bruce play out before her. She'd only seen it in glimpses before, never had it been this pronounced. One might suppose it was the knowledge affecting Helena's behavior, but Selina guessed the knowledge was simply a catalyst to bring out Helena's dark side. It was in their dark sides of Catwoman and Batman that Selina and Bruce were at their purest essences, and that was what Selina was seeing now, Helena's pure essence. Selina saw Helena's eyes sparkle darkly just like hers once did when she replied, "Explain it to me. I'm clever girl after all, probably get that from you, daddy dearest."

Selina got off the sidelines, replying, "It was for your protection, Helena."

"My protection." That was Bruce's voice, asking a question but making it into a statement.

Selina continued, that voice never stopped her before, "It was to protect you. You were in enough danger as Catwoman's daughter, if anyone were to discover the truth…"

"Well, somebody did." Helena leapt off the desk. "You gave me up to protect me, but it didn't work. I lost the only parents I ever knew and someone is trying to kill me. At least if I had been your daughter I would have known why. I would know how to defend myself. You didn't protect me, you took away the only protection I had."

Bruce, as always, remained the voice of calm reason. "Helena, we can't be sure that is the reason why someone is after you."

Helena spat, "What else is there, father? You're supposed to be a great detective. This is the most logical and obvious reason."

Bruce inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Only a handful of people know who we are, only three rogues found out who I was."

Selina couldn't help herself. "Four. That twit Talia knew too."

Bruce turned to her, irritated. "I'm sorry, should we count you too?"

Selina wished for a whip to unfurl. "Don't start with me Bruce."

Helena watched the exchange. "Maybe I was better off not being raised by you two."

Selina felt the anger evaporate and she focused back on her daughter. She moved to reach for her, "Helena…"

Helena dodged the contact, another Batman move. "No. I've heard everything I need to hear." For the first time that night she showed some emotion on her face. Selina could figure out if it was anger, fear, or sadness. "I need to go. I need some time to think."

No one tried to stop her as she left as abruptly as she entered.


	18. All Lies Lost and Torn

**Chapter 18 All Lies Lost and Torn**

It was amazing how much could change from a simple shift of perspective. Upon the rooftops of Gotham, Helena found the pollution smoke in the industrial district rising to mix with the blazing twilight of the almost risen sun eerily gorgeous. She just wished for that calm that being up this high once gave her. That sense of control she gained when she looked down upon the world.

But it wasn't working. She needed more. She stood and faced the ledge she'd been sitting on. It was a little wider than balance beams she'd perfected at the age of ten, but defiantly more dangerous of a fall. It was just what she needed.

She went through the routine that she would've performed for an Olympic judging committee. With every flip and hand stand she could feel the tension in her muscles become a controlled flexing. The physicality of movement and adrenaline rush from the danger was heaven.

Until she showed up and ruined it all. "Dangerous."

Helena was balancing on one hand, but the little shock caused her to need both. She felt the anger building again and flipped off the ledge. "Even more so when people show up and break your concentration. I could've fell."

Cassie didn't blink. "I would've caught you."

Helena regarded her Batwoman outfit. "Right. You know, dawn is breaking. Don't you need to get going before your turn to dust?"

Helena moved to leave, but Batwoman grabbed her wrist. So she punched her. It felt wonderful. She put her anger, frustration and confusion into every throw. Every kick was fueled by fear and vengeance. This is what she really needed.

She was so lost in the fight; Helena didn't notice how easily she was winning it. Far too easily against Cassie's experience. It wasn't until Batwoman was on the ground clutching her bleeding side that she finally snapped out of it. Even as a child, blood never made Helena squeamish, but the sight of it caused her doctor instincts to flare up.

"You're bleeding."

* * *

Selina walked over to fetch what Bruce counted to be her fifth drink since Helena left. "Well it's official, she's going to end up on a rooftop."

He eyed the crystal glass filled with amber liquid the same way he once eyed Penguin's umbrellas. They certainly looked harmless, but he knew better. "Why do you assume that?"

Selina began roaming the room in the same fashion as her daughter had earlier. The grace she did it with was even more unnatural than usual considering the amount of liquor she'd been downing. Bruce never liked Selina drunk, she couldn't keep her emotions under control. He was already thinking of a dozen ways to somehow rid the room of that blasted bottle as Selina continued,"Well, if having us as parents isn't reason enough. That girl just found out she had two sets of parents who lied to her."

Bruce didn't want to get into this with Selina here and now. He could spend days rehashing past pain, but now was not the opportune time. "That's hardly a reason to turn to crime or justice."

Selina turned to give Bruce a glare. "I think that was an insult." Before Bruce had time to reply she went on, coming towards him with one manicured nail pointed straight at him, "Losing parents…it's the first step in wearing a mask. It's true, Bruce name one person you know in that arena that has living parents" He began to speak. "Or is without major issues with their living ones.

He closed his mouth again. She finished her drink. "I need another one."

Bruce grabbed her before she reached the counter. "I think you've had enough."

She ripped herself from his grip with the ferocity of a wildcat. "Don't you tell me what to do Bruce! Listening to you is what got me into this mess in the first place. First the sweet nothings to make her, then the rationalizations for hiding the truth from her."

Bruce tried for calm and rational. "Selina, it was the right thing to do."

Selina was beyond calm and rational. "Well, it didn't fucking work, did it? People are trying to kill our daughter!"

That screech broke Bruce's restraint. "Yes it did. I would rather have someone trying to kill our twenty year-old daughter than our two year-old! You remember what the Joker did to Tim when he found out who I was. Imagine what he would've done to my ten-year old daughter! I swore no child would feel the same pain I did, and I sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen to my daughter. Our daughter was protected, Selina, and I will never apologize for or regret that."

Bruce turned to lean and look out the window. He needed to calm again. For not wanting to bring up every painful memory, he certainly mentioned the big ones. His parents, his daughter and the night the Joker died. The only person not present who knew anything about that night beyond Tim's thirteen-hour torture, the Joker's death and Harley's disappearance was Selina Kyle. And she only knew what she managed to pull from Bruce after he sought the comfort only she could give him. Bruce spent more time than anyone should trying to envision the inner workings of the Joker's mind, but he always tried to block the too disturbing thought of replacing Tim with Helena. He found it was far worse when the girl existed beyond a secret and imagined existence.

Selina's voice now held the calm and collected tone. "Wow, you actually showed emotion."

Bruce turned, fury pumping in his veins. "Don't joke about this."

Beautiful green met cold blue. "I've never bowed before your alter of pain, Bruce."

He wanted to throttle her for her disrespect, but he found his center again in his anger. That center was Batman. "What's done is done."

Her head cocked to the side slightly. "Wise words."

Batman continued, "Helena must be protected at all costs. I will see to it."

Selina sighed, "Bruce, you can't. She won't let you. She hates us both."

He paused. "You were right, Selina. This was all my fault, all my idea."

She shook her head. "Don't do that, Bruce."

He came in close forcing her to listen. "She'll hate me but she will be safe."

"Ever the self-sacrificing hero." Selina began grabbing her stuff.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

Bruce moved to stop her, but didn't get far without his can. "You're too drunk to drive."

She faced him with keys dangling from her fingers. "Bruce, you could make a rockstar sober." She took off.

He followed.

He tried to stop her as she made her way quickly to the front doors, but he couldn't manage it. He cursed his cane once more. She turned to face him before letting the door close, "For all your chasing, you never did truly catch me."

The door slammed shut.

* * *

Cassie held back another wince as Helena inspected the wound. "I'm impressed. Whoever did this did a fantastic job."

Cassie should've stopped her next words. "Tim did it."

Helena looked confused. "Who's Tim?"

"He was the third Robin."

"That's all?"

Cassie had no desire to continue down that road, so she changed the subject gruffly, "You shouldn't be up here."

Helena went back to repairing Cassie's damage with a smirk. "Afraid I'm encroaching on your territory?"

Cassie kept her face neutral. "I'm serious, without a mask people will ask questions."

Helena finished her work and spoke with an unnatural lightness. "Perhaps I'm suicidal." Then her tone darkened. "Mask or not anyone playing on rooftops has got a death wish."

Cassie didn't need to hear this at this moment. "Don't talk like that, Helena."

She missed Helena studying her so closely, but not the question. "Why do you wince every time you say my name?"

Cassie felt herself stiffen. She thought she'd been hiding that fairly well. "I don't wince."

"Maybe not wince, but something."

Cassie was in too much pain to run so she decided to indulge Helena's curiosity. "Do you remember Huntress?"

Helena shrugged, leaning against the ledge across where Cassie was sitting. "She was one of the more minor players in the Bat family some time ago. No one really trusted her; her methods were too rough. I never quite developed the strong dislike that everyone else had for her though. I could respect the warrior in her."

Cassie could hear the rapid interest in Helena's question. "What happened to her?"

"She was chasing after a Mob gang in the East side, but it was a trap. They had her running across rooftops to one they had rigged to fall when she stepped on it. She barely got out the distress call, but the fall didn't kill her. The men wanted to have some fun with her first." Cassie didn't keep the disgust from her voice.

She looked up to see Helena's focused eyes, imploring her to continue. Still, Cassie hesitated at the next part. "She was…" Cassie's neck gave the slightest tick, "…violated repeatedly before they finished her off."

Helena whispered a profanity.

Cassie continued, finishing up the story of another Helena's end. "Tim got to her first, but not before a photographer, as her mask was removed. She made countless covers, stories talking about her troubled background, the not-so-glamorous life of masked vigilantes and warnings against children idealizing these so-called heroes. It was too close to the Joker's final torture and it broke Tim's desire to be an acting Robin. Bruce never had another Robin, but got more closed off after Tim left."

Helena looked ready with a barrage of questions, but Cassie made no effort to hide the fact that she was done talking. The moment settled between them before Helena finally did ask a question. "Wow, do you people have any happy stories?"

Behind her mask, Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Us people?"

Helena shook her head, "Never mind that." The silence between them grew uncomfortable, as the both were lost in depressing thoughts. "Tell a joke or something, lighten the mood."

Only because Helena did not know her well enough did Cassie respond, "I don't do jokes."

Helena gave a lip twitch that almost resembled a smile. "Yeah, I've noticed this family is all about the brooding."

Cassie glared at her, but Helena continued, "Not to mention the glaring. Emotional withholding, brooding and glaring are like the holy trinity of the Bat family."

Cassie found herself somewhere between amused and enraged at Helena's flippancy. "So you're funny?"

Helena turned to the sun breaking dawn. "Only to mask the pain, I assure you."


	19. No Reason To Pretend

**Chapter 19 No Reason to Pretend**

For Alfred Pennyworth, old age meant a significant amount of slowing in his once busy and unpredictable schedule. A traditional man, he was a firm believer in the importance of a steady and reliable routine, as it was the only real way to get everything done. Though of course, he certainly proved his ability to improvise repeatedly when a certain stubborn billionaire's more than eccentric nightlife called for it. That same nightlife made worry a near consent emotion for Alfred, only varying in degrees.

Though it had subsided slightly after Batman hung up his cape, it was back again in full force now. Alfred may not have learned about the fallout of Helena learning the truth as soon as he would have when he was younger (since he now knew details ten minutes after they happened rather then one minute), but it gave him much to worry over.

When Cassie learned the truth she was furious with Bruce, and was now a rare sight around the Manor. Barbara and Dick stayed decidedly neutral on the manner. Though both would occasionally show their leanings, as Barbara helped with the charade and felt the need to defend it while Dick's speech was tinged with words like controlling, manipulative, and bat prick.

Concerning the young woman, Helena refused to speak with her desperate mother. Neither did she so much as look at her father.

Not that he was doing anything to rectify that. He'd only gotten more closed off since the big reveal. He hadn't even visited Alfred in weeks since. Alfred knew by now, if it'd been a few years ago, he would have insisted on delivering Master Bruce some food and seeing to it that it was eaten. Providing him with the perfect opportunity to explain to his troubled employer that while he may believe he is doing the best thing by giving her space, in reality he is only supporting the young girl's fear that he cares nothing for her.

Alfred remembered Bruce Wayne's reaction to his first learning about his impending fatherhood, and knew for certain that nothing could be further from the truth.

* * *

Cassie paused her actions and watched the figure in the bed again. His steady, even breathing was right for a sleeping man, but she knew he'd been trying to keep his sleep light so he could catch her before she left. She'd adapted her habits accordingly, and that included not moving as she went to grab a left shoe. When he satisfied her by rolling over once more she resumed her combination of picking up her various items and dressing.

Cassie was determined to avoid Bruce by any means necessary after this last fight. Which meant using the satellite cave in the city and rotating with Barbara and Dick on checking on both Alfred and Bruce daily. She found her other shoe and took one last scan of the room as if she would never be returning.

It was a lie, but one she liked to believe. She liked it as much as the one that got her into this situation. That lovely one that believed she only did this because the commissioner's bed was more comfortable than that cot in the cave.

Kissing Ethan Grant as Batwoman was a lark, but when she met up with him again at diner known for its cheap food and fast service, it kept replaying through her mind. She didn't believe in looking at things too closely or she may have also noticed the timing of her intensified crush only days after seeing Tim once more. Though inept at seducing she learned to read his body language and change her attitude accordingly though staying her true, blunt self. He found her charming, and she found him suitable.

The only real difference of opinion they were having was the very reason she was sneaking out of his apartment another morning to escape to the city. Ethan wanted something more resembling a relationship than her showing up on his doorstop at a late hour and leaving again before he woke.

Cassie knew better though, she knew where getting close to someone led, the only place, to pain. She pressed the button for the elevator, and looked at her watch. Damn. She was going to be late.

* * *

"There is no integrity left in Journalism. None."

Normally, nothing gave Clark more pleasure than having his son come visit him. Especially when his mother was not around to pester him about future grandchildren. Clark knew the boy would settle down as soon as he met the right girl. Though he'd thrown a hint or two himself. He just didn't have time to hear this rant again today. He needed to be in Gotham in less than ten minutes, and Clark knew from experience that this topic could be carried on for hours.

Bruce had called. He wanted to talk. Clark also knew from experience that if Bruce wanted to talk it was going to be about something big, and he didn't tolerate tardiness, not even by a second. Especially when he knew that it took a fraction of second to make the trip.

But Clark just didn't have it in him to cut off his son. "One reporter does not equal the entire profession, son."

Jason faced his father. "I'm not just talking about Gina Vale. Though she is the worst, the most deplorable. No. Everyone is just looking for the big story, the one to get their names in lights. What ever happened to seeking the truth? Ferreting out corruption for the betterment of human society?"

Even in his impatience Clark felt a twinge of pride. He couldn't have asked for a better son. Then he heard the car coming towards the house. "You're mother's coming home."

Jason's hearing picked up on it too. He went out to help her with her bags. Clark knew it was the perfect opportunity to escape but he couldn't just leave with no explanation. So as they sat bags down he when to kiss Lois on the cheek. "Good to see you're home, home. I've got to be going now. Please stay, son, I'll be back."

Both of them looked confused. Lois asked, "Where are you going in such a rush?"

Clark only said, "Bruce wanted to talk," before running off.

Lois and Jason stood, still looking confused. Lois looked at her son, "Do you know why Bruce Wayne would want to talk?"

He just looked right back. "If not for the absolute certainty that Bruce would know, I would've followed to eavesdrop."

Lois shrugged and went to unpacking bags. "Oh well, your father can't keep a secret, we'll know soon enough. Why don't I make us something to eat and we can catch up?"

Most boys would brighten at a home cooked meal from their mother; Jason blanched. He stopped Lois from unloading anymore. "Why don't I finish unpacking for you and then grab some authentic Chinese while we wait for Dad instead?"

* * *

Helena grabbed a drink she couldn't properly pronounce and followed her pseudo mentor to a corner booth. It was hidden in the back of the small café but offered a great view of every other table in the place. Helena sled into the booth facing away from the other people, looking at her drinking companion, "Didn't figure you much for a café girl."

Cassie ignored her. "This is a lesson in fighting."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "What like lift up the coffee?" She demonstrated with her own cup. "And set it down. A modern wax on, wax off."

Cassie missed the joke. "I want you to observe." Helena turned her head to the café patrons. "No. Too conspicuous."

Helena understood now. Cassie had mentioned the importance of using peripheral vision. She relaxed, and leaned back even resting an arm on the top of her seat. "What am I observing?"

Cassie nodded her head. "The man and woman at the second table closest to us, what are they saying?"

She didn't move her position, but Helena wasn't so relaxed anymore. This was going to be more than just using her eyes better. "You expect me to read their lips?"

Cassie brought her coffee to her lips. "I expect you to read them."

Now that she was fairing well in fighting, Helena forgot how demanding Cassie could be. She assumed a different position, leaning slightly forward and moving her lips as though she was in deep conversation with Cassie. She strained to get a good look at what they were saying. "The woman is saying something about a summer house."

Cassie shook her head, and Helena kept her attention split. "I didn't ask you to read lips, I wanted you to read them. She isn't looking at him, and is gripping her cup too tightly. He is slumped over and keeps glancing at her. They just broke up, and are sorting through it now. He feels bad about doing it and she's barely hanging on."

Helena had been impressed by Cassie's fighting skills, but this blew her away. Cassie had barely taken a glance at them.

Cassie took another sip and continued with a nod to another table. "Try again."

* * *

Helena made progress in the hour, but was still relieved when Cassie got up. "We done?"

"No. Restroom."

Helena gave a small smile. "Aren't we both supposed to go?"

Cassie looked puzzled. "Why?"

Helena shrugged. "It's what women do."

Cassie still looked puzzled. "Who would watch our wallets?"

"We take them with."

Helena had to struggle not to laugh at look of disgust that crossed Cassie's face. Helena continued her people watching, she was getting much better at this, but then she'd always been a quick study. She only lost it when Cassie's personal communicator started ringing. Never one to pass up a chance for mischief, Helena picked it up. "Hello."

"Who is this?"

It was a male voice. Helena thought it sounded familiar but couldn't place it. "You called, shouldn't you know?"

"Well, I meant to call Cassandra Cain, but perhaps this is the wrong number."

Helena gave a rich laugh. "You mean she didn't give it to you? You found it on your own? I'm impressed." She heard him give a slight sigh. "She's in the restroom, can I take a message?"

"Just tell her that Ethan Grant called and wants to speak with her."

Commissioner Grant, of course. Helena kicked herself for not picking up on the accent. "Of course."

"You never did tell me your name."

Helena spotted Cassie coming out the door, "I think that's for the best, Commissioner."

Helena set the communicator aside. Nothing looked amiss when Cassie took her seat.

Other than Helena's smirk.

Cassie eyed her, "What?"

The smirk only grew. "Ethan called."

Cassie gave her communicator a dirty look as though it betrayed her. Helena continues, "He got the unlisted number by good old fashioned detective work apparently. It's encouraging to know that Gotham's PD isn't completely worthless."

Cassie stood. "I'm leaving." Helena figured her teasing must have hit her worse than she thought. She stood to leave as well, but Cassie held out a hand. "No you stay. Learn."

Against her better judgment Helena did just that.

* * *

Clark landed on the steps of Wayne Manor. Bruce had informed him just to walk in and come to the Cave, but for some reason it felt like a trap. Clark found himself mildly surprised when he was allowed to do just that, then wondered where the feeling had come from in the first place.

"You're late."

Clark looked over his friend. Bruce didn't look good. Yes, he'd seen him look much, much worse, but if had been twenty years past he would have guessed Batman has been obsessing over a case for weeks now. Then Clark wondered why he dismissed it now. Though Batman was retired, it hadn't been like his own retirement. Bruce may not wear the cowl anymore, but he spent as much time at that computer working cases as he ever did. "Hello to you too, Bruce."

Bruce grunted in response. He turned back to his work. Clark wasn't sure if he was being ignored or just delayed, but after a minute passed he decided to say something. "So, Bruce, how's Cassie handling Gotham?"

It was the wrong question. Bruce tensed immediately. Then finished whatever he'd been doing. "I did not ask you here for idle chit chat." Bruce pressed a button and an image of a young woman filled the screen.

Clark was curious. "Who is she?"

Bruce turned to face him. "My daughter, Helena."

Clark could not have been more shocked if Bruce would've pulled out some kryptonite. "What? How?"

"Considering that you have a son yourself, I doubt I have to tell you the mechanics, Clark."

Clark didn't even process the fact Bruce made a joke. "How is the first time I ever heard of a daughter, Bruce? I thought we were friends."

Bruce darkened. "This had nothing to do with you, Clark."

"You have a daughter for," Clark looked closer at the picture, "twenty years and you don't tell me. You don't see a problem with this?"

"No one knew, Clark that was the point. That is the point."

Clark wasn't listening, not ready to give up on the betrayal. "It's always secrets and hidden truths with you Bruce. Contingencies. Secret Plans. Protocols. Got any other bombshells, Batman?"

Bruce just stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Clark still felt disgusted. "I don't suppose I warrant worthy enough to know who the mother is, do I?"

"Selina." Clark was sure if that completely surprised him or was the only possible answer. "That's why Clark. The daughter of Batman and Catwoman could never be safe, if known."

Clark still hadn't let go of the anger. "But she is now."

Bruce blinked and quickly looked away. It was the closest thing to real vulnerability he'd ever seen Bruce show. He pushed his resentment aside to really listen to his friend. "Bruce, I'm here. What's wrong?"

Though his back was to Clark, Bruce's tone had not wavered. "Someone who knows is trying to kill her. Already got her adopted parents. She is…" Bruce paused, "…upset with me for hiding her, but I must protect her. That's where you are needed."

Clark pushed any further questions or feelings aside, knowing the best way to go about this would be calmly and logically. "Wouldn't Jason be a better choice to keep tabs on Helena?"

Bruce faced him again, mask of stone firmly in place. "No. She doesn't a superhuman guard and would not appreciate a rescue by Superman in the slightest. She would resent the implications that she couldn't handle a situation herself."

She really is your daughter was Clark's first thought. "How would I be a better candidate?"

"I just want to you to keep your ears peeled, so to speak. I don't have to worry about an unwanted rescue from you."

Clark knew if it came to it that would not be true, but kept the thought to himself. "Who else knows?"

"Alfred, Dick, Cassie, Barbara and J'onn."

Clark was surprised. "J'onn knew before I did?"

Bruce shrugged. "He's been keeping tabs on her on my behalf for weeks." Clark wanted to say more but Bruce cut him off, "That doesn't matter. Will you do this for me Clark?"

Clark took a deep breath. "Of course, Bruce. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

Before he took off, Bruce ordered, "No one else is to know about this, Clark. That includes Lois and Jason."

Clark didn't like it, but he'd been expecting it. "Okay." Bruce nodded and returned to working. Clark didn't want to leave his friend in such an unhealthy state, but knew Bruce would eventually force him out, one way or another. So he turned to leave. Before he left, though, he turned to Bruce's back, "By the way, Bruce, congratulations on being a father."

Bruce didn't stop typing until after Clark left. He let his fingers stop and his mind wonder for a moment on what Clark said, only to resume again.

* * *

He was pleased. With operations now in place he was only missing one final piece of the puzzle. A piece that only Gotham herself could provide. A criminal that worried less about confrontations and consequences and more about being heard, seen, known.


	20. Realize That I’m Nothing I Wanted To Be

**

* * *

**

Chapter 20 Realize That I'm Nothing I Wanted To Be

He got away again. She couldn't believe it. He'd slipped right through her fingers. This would not happen again. She was Cassandra Cain, born to be the best. This would not happen again.

She avoided Ethan's place as she drove the Batmobile out of Gotham; she had no desire to see him now. Tonight she needed the Bat computer, so Cassie had no choice but to return to the cave beneath Wayne Manor, Bruce be damned. She wasn't the slightest bit surprised to find him in front of the screen, looking intently at the screen. The screen showed Helena, aged 3, 7, 14 and 16. If it had been anyone else, Cassie would've written him off as a creeper, but she wasn't the least bit surprised that Bruce had kept tabs on his daughter. Perhaps a bit disappointed in herself for not noticing. So she ignored it when she spoke, "I need the computer."

Bruce didn't move in the slightest. His eyes never left screen and Cassie could see the gears behind them going as fast as ever. "What for?"

She scowled. "I'm Batwoman."

Bruce did to turn to face her after the copied move. "I gave you this case almost ten months ago. Have you solved it?"

"He who is prudent and lies in wait for an enemy who is not, will be victorious," quoted Cassie.

"Know the enemy, know yourself; your victory will never be endangered. Know the ground, know the weather; your victory will then be total," Bruce quoted back.

"Alfred told me about Clark's visit. Still keeping tabs?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "Someone is trying to kill my daughter, I think I'm allowed to be a bit overprotective."

She met his hard gaze. "And what of Gotham's protection. I will not let the Riddler strike again."

"Be careful, Cassie, don't let your obsession with the Riddler consume you."

If she'd been Dick, she would have responded with a quip about Bruce giving advice on obsessing. As it was she simply pushed him out of the way to do her own work.

Bruce said one more thing before walking away, "He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious."

* * *

The Riddler was quite pleased with himself. Another success against the Batwoman, part of him longed for a deeper challenge, but his bank account was just fine with an enemy who could break his arm but never quite catch him. He returned home with an extra skip in his step, for tonight, she hadn't even managed that. He didn't bother flipping on the lights because he would be sleeping soon anyhow.

But a lamped found it's way on, with a man sitting behind the impressive desk he used when hiring muscle. The man motioned to the tiny seat across from him. "Have a seat, Mr. Riddler."

The Riddler refused to show surprised at the unexpected visitor, or fury at the stranger's treatment of him. He dismissed sitting in the tiny little chair meant to put dumb muscle in its place even before it was hired, preferring to stand with his arms folded. "Do I know you?"

The man gave a cruel smile. "I'm a friend."

The Riddler was not impressed. "My friends have names."

He motioned again. "Sit."

The Riddler raised an eyebrow. "Odd name."

The man with such dark features let out a sigh as if dealing with a too curious child. "I could tell you my name or I could tell you who I am. One of these things is a far more valuable piece of information."

The Riddler relented and sat down. He was too exhausted to continue standing and he was desperately curious. He mustered as much dignity as he could in his small spot, letting his wit shine. "Let me guess. You're the philosopher?

The man didn't look impressed. "Hardly."

The Riddler shrugged it off. He'd met people who were far stranger. "So what can I do for your Mr. No Name?"

With a refined dignity he replied, "I am in need of your services."

He had neither time nor patience for this. "Look, if you need a thief. I'm good, but you might want to go with someone a bit more under the radar."

The man chuckled cruelly. "No, under the radar is most definitely not what I want."

The Riddler's interest was certainly peaked now. "Oh?"

The man rose from his spot and walked over to look out the window. The dim moonlight gave him an eerie aura. "I need you to lure Batwoman to a certain location at a certain time."

"Bait? You want me to be bait? I don't do bait." The Riddled got up to leave, more offended then he'd been since, well he didn't want to go there.

The man turned. "Where are you going? This is your favorite lair."

The Riddler stopped dead in his tracks. It was the truth though he suspected a bluff. He kept his tone causal and light. "I have other lairs."

The man walked towards him menacingly. "I know. I could list their locations for you."

He dismissed the funny feeling in his gut and spoke sardonically, "Right."

The sinister man gave another smile. He went over to the desk he previously occupied and pulled out a manilla folder from seemingly nowhere. He handed to the Riddler, who read it with fervor. His only response was a barely spoken, "Shit."

The smile widened. "Now you see. I know everything about you."

For the first time that night the Riddler spoke with anger, "Are you blackmailing me?"

The other man with his refined eloquent tone, "I simply require your assistance."

The Riddler calmed himself down., thinking logically. "Right. What do I get out of this deal?"

"A worthy advisory."

The other man had spoken with such a serious dramatic flair that the Riddler felt he needed to be equally flippant. "A worthy advisory; that's it?"

The other man clarified. "Batman's child."

Again, the Riddler was intrigued. "Batman has a child?"

"So we have an agreement?"

But the Riddler wasn't done yet. "How do you know Batman has a child?"

Now it was the other man who was getting frustrated. "I will not answer your ridiculous questions."

The Riddler spoke in the sinister Rogue voice required in his line of work, "Oh but I so love questions." He gave his own smile, and then he switched to cold logical thinking. "Batwoman is his heir apparent. For all you know she is his child."

The other man scoffed. "Batwoman is no more Batman's child than you are the former Riddler's."

He shrugged. "Everyone knows who the old Riddler was; once you know my name it's pretty simple to figure out we're not related."

"Batwoman is Cassandra Cain, daughter of David Cain, who was not Batman," he spoke it with such certain that even a man who loved to question things let it go, but still he wanted to know the real question.

"Then who was?"

"The old Riddler found the answer to that question, perhaps you will too." The Riddler feels a newfound respect for the man he modeled his criminal career after, but then loses it when he thinks how he should've used the advantage. Later he wondered and checked if anyone was targeted more, and Bruce Wayne was his main target, but the Waynes were the Rockefellers of Gotham, everyone attacked them the most. "I shall contact you with further information."

Lost in his thoughts he snapped himself out of it. "I never said yes."

"I will not accept another answer."

He strode away and left with an arrogance that the Riddler found supremely irritating and unwarranted. He mutter to himself as he shuffled to bed, "What an asshole."

* * *

Barbara did not want to mettle. She liked to think that she didn't do it, but the nickname of the 'all-knowing Oracle' made her think otherwise. It was Bruce's voice in her head, telling her that you must look at the facts, unpleasant as they may be. The fact was that Helena not speaking with her parents was destroying all three of them. Selina was wrecked with guilt, even putting aside her pride to call for Barbara's assistance in talking to her daughter (though it was made perfectly clear that it was asking, not begging). Alfred reported on the condition of Bruce as best he could, and it was not looking good there either. And Barbara could see the hatred consuming Helena, and she knew what happened to those who let that happen.

She'd been fighting them all her life, and she'd be damned before she'd see Helena walk down that path. Suddenly, a thunk snapped her from her thoughts and she looked up to see the subject of her thoughts standing there expectantly.

"A little light reading?" Barbara asked, picking up _The Psychology of the Criminal Mind_ that Helena had dropped in front of her.

"Know thy enemy, Barbara." Helena said with a smirk.

Barbara checked the book out but quietly asked, "Planning on putting on a mask?"

Helena looked shocked. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. I am planning on being a doctor, and every good med student will tell you that psychologists are the devil. I plan on being able to argue point-by-point as to why insanity is caused by a chemical imbalance and not Daddy not hugging enough."

"You really believe that don't you?"

Helena leaned in close and lowered her voice. "Do you really think that my athletic prowess, high intelligence and petulance for violence came from Chet and June Troy?" Picked up her books. "Nature versus Nurture. A person's true nature will always win."

As she left, Barbara called after her, "You should speak with your parents, Helena!"

Helena found herself at the café that was now fairly common to her, after Cassie's lesson. But this time she wasn't with familiar company. Edward Nygma sipped his tea and toyed with the automated order form at the table. Helena waited for him to focus back in on her. It took longer than she thought it would until he was finished toying with the technology at the table. "Why did you want to speak with me, Helena?"

Helena set down her gourmet coffee and spoke the rehearsed speech she prepared for. "I told you, I'm doing my thesis on the criminal mind, and how is biological and not psychological. This is Gotham, I put a real Rogue's name on it, and even if my research is shit, I'll pass."

He half-smirked. "Sounds reminiscent of Harleen Quinzel."

Helena picked up her coffee again, dismissing his comments. "She wanted a book, I only want thirty pages. Besides, like I said it's biological, psychological cues can only trigger what's been there all along."

The smirk hadn't left his face. "So I'm still crazy? Arkham didn't cure me?"

She kept his gaze. "You had a brain tumor, Mr. Nygma. It was removed."

Helena was impressed by the former Riddler's poker face. He didn't have a tell that she could see. "I'll make you a deal. You answer my questions and I'll answer yours."

"Why would I answer first?"

His smirk turned into a smile and he leaned in closer. "Because I know that pre-med students don't write a thesis, especially not after they graduate, and your questions will be much different than you claim." He leaned back. "But I like games, and I will be willing to play all afternoon with a sharp mind like yours."

She leaned back as well, resting her arm on the back of her chair. "Ask your question."

"Questions," he corrected. "Why did you really want to speak with me?"

Helena decided to lay it out on the table. "To figure out if you're trying to kill me. It was unlikely but I have to eliminate all possibilities with absolute certainty."

Edward studied Helena, and she realized what it was like to be the bacteria and cells she studied under a microscope. "Bruce Wayne is your father, isn't he?"

She saw no reason to lie. "Yes."

"Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle had a daughter." He stated it as though saying it aloud is what made it true. He shook his head with a laugh. "God help us all."

She laughed softly in return. "So I meet your approval then?"

The wide smile never left his face. "Are you kidding? I wish I were 30 years younger so I could battle you behind masks. You'd be so much more fun than your father."

Helena tensed at the mention of her father. "Who said I was following his footsteps?"

Edward sipped his tea and then looked at her with heavy disbelief. "Both your parents played dress-up. You're the one saying it's biological, not psychological."

"Touché." She picked up her drink again. She faced off with him for a moment more. "You're not the one."

His eyebrow shot up. "Excuse me?"

"I've decided that you're not trying to kill me." Most people would've been offended but Edward Nygma laughed. "Now why don't you entertain me with tales from your past."

He laughed and began, "Well…"

* * *

"You spent all afternoon with the former Riddler?"

Cassie couldn't believe it, but Helena shrugged it off, grabbing her water bottle after another tough workout between the two of them. "He was a ton of fun, I can see why mom likes him so much." She paused. "Well, until you mentioned the new Riddler anyway."

"The Riddler is not a joke, but a criminal."

Helena kept her face neutral. "I guess the new Riddler is an issue for you. How did you know where I was this afternoon anyway?"

"Bruce."

Helena glowered, but Cassie didn't seem to notice. She continued with her thoughts, "It'll be much better when you're Batgirl…"

"Excuse me? I don't recall ever saying I'd be Batgirl."

Cassie couldn't have been more shocked then if Helena had punched her in the stomach. "Why are you training then?"

Helena gave Cassie her full attention. "Because someone is trying to kill me."

Cassie asked her the Bruce's question. "What about Gotham?"

Helena's attention went back to preparing her exit. "I don't care about Gotham."

Cassie found she understood Bruce's shock. "You live in Gotham."

Helena turned back to Cassie. "Not everyone in Gotham has a duel identity."

"That shouldn't matter. You're human."

"That's rich considering your past."

No own have ever dared to allude to her past before, and Cassie didn't like it now. She decided to bring up Helena's own past and blood, "Your family…"

"I don't know who my family is anymore," Helena nearly shouted. She looked as surprised as Cassie at the outburst. But her quick exit brought Cassie a strange feeling of relief. Cassie didn't dwell on the fight between them, going back to thinking about catching the Riddler.

* * *

AN: Sorry it took so long to update. Time and inspiration just never matched up. The quotes are from Sun Tzu's Art of War.


	21. Set Your Guilt Free

**Chapter 21 Set Your Guilt Free**

Screams echoed throughout the caverns of the Batcave, as Dick watched Helena execute another perfect aerial acrobatic move. He liked her taste in music, but absolutely loved her technique. As she came back to the ground, he applauded her.

"Your technique is perfect."

She smiled widely. "It should be. I'm damn near an Olympian."

Dick handed her a towel to wipe off the sweat that collected on her body. He forced himself not to notice how appealing the glistening and flushed skin made her, reasoning that she was his sister. It would be inappropriate. "I know. I'm useless in your training, the only reason I'm here is that you and Cassie and you are fighting."

She looked at him with curiosity and he explained further, "Barbara keeps me up-to-date on all the drama."

Her eyes kept a curious look but the rest of her face became more guarded. "I've been meaning to ask, what is the deal with you and Barbara?"

Dick was unsure how to interpret her look, so he answered with complete honesty. "In a word, complicated. We aren't technically anything, but we've always been on and off. We were even engaged a couple times but it never amounted to anything."

She gave a nod, digesting the new information. She finished wiping herself off turned to see if he was still watching. Then she went over to cut of the music, bending at the waist. Dick instantly turned away, but she didn't let him ignore her for long. She came in too close for him to do anything but face her and spoke with a low voice. "While I truly was curious about your acrobatic background, that's not why I wanted you here. I need your help with something."

Dick didn't like the tone she was using as she led him out of the workout room to the computer. It reminded too much of the woman who starred in his first wet dreams. "Couldn't you wait until you and Cassie make up for this?"

She was leaning over the panel, giving him quite the view as she pressed a few buttons. She looked back at him with lowered lashes, speaking in that same seductive tone, "No, only you could help me."

Crap. Nothing good could come of this. If he somehow survived Bruce's reaction, he was sure he would never get pass Barbara. "You know Helena, I really do need to be heading back to Bludhaven."

Helena turned completely now, walking towards with an extra sway of hips. Dick refused to allow himself to take a step back reminding himself that he faced Killer Croc and Bane head on. Then she licked her lips and he thought they were never quite this dangerous. She stepped into his personal space. "Do I frighten you?"

Yes. "No, of course not."

She leaned in closer so her lips were a hair's breath away from his, he could feel the warm air from her whisper. "Dick."

He steeled himself against anything she might try. She was too damn young for him. Half his age. Bruce's daughter. Not Barbara. He repeated his mantra. "Helena."

She laughed lightly. "Dick." A naughty grin. "If I wanted to have sex with you do you really think I would do it in the Batcave?"

At her normal tone Dick felt the bucket of ice water wash over him along with relief. Though the relief turned to annoyance at her obviously amused grin. "Sorry." She said it with no sincerity. "What I'm really interested in is your private dick."

She lowered her voice on the last three words. Dick crossed his arms. "Not funny."

She gave him another smile, what he supposed was meant to be cute before she finally dropped into a business tone. "I've been looking into my parents and who could be doing this. While my mother accumulated many enemies, none really found out who she was. This was not the case for Bruce."

Dick noted the use of my mother versus Bruce. "Five of Batman's enemies discovered his secret identity." She used her long fingers to count them off. "Catwoman, who obviously is not trying to kill me." She began to pace. "The Riddler is just as unlikely, as the only person he seems to be holding a grudge against is the new Riddler. Hugo Strange is dead, out of the picture." She stopped. "The Joker's dead too, but you couldn't past him to have something cooked up even now. Harley got away after all. He's the most likely candidate."

Dick felt it necessary to point out the obvious missing person. "What about Ra's? Old pointy hair is immortal and obsessed with the Detective."

"Yes, but it doesn't quite fit with him. He wanted an heir from Batman, whoever is doing this wants to break him."

Dick approached her softly. "Helena, you know would be a better person to talk this over with?"

She tensed. "No."

"I'm his only son. I know what a manipulative, overprotective prick he can be."

"What about Jason?" Dick felt the color drain from his face. "I told you I did my research."

"I was furious when I first found out about Jason. If Bruce hadn't needed me after his death, I'm not sure I would've ever forgiven him. But he's a good man, Helena. A good man who's had a hard life, and deserves a second chance at a family."

She spoke coldly, "He already had a second chance, but you left him."

She certainly knew where to plant the blade. Dick's tone matched her coldness. "You really are his daughter, arrogant and pig-headed with no real regard for other people." He left for Bludhaven.

* * *

Helena remained in the Cave for a moment more. She went off to change into jeans. She didn't like this person she was becoming. She knew what she needed. She meant to leave immediately but a voice came from the computer. "There's a flaw in your logic."

She recognized the voice and felt the anger boiling up. She faced cold blue eyes that matched her own, set in a wrinkled frame. "How long have you been watching me, Bruce?"

He ignored her question. He wrote something on a piece of paper and rose from the computer chair with the use of his cane, walking to her. "You're assuming whoever is targeting you is after me, but what if they are really after you?"

She scowled. "I'm not you. I don't have enemies."

"Here." He handed her the paper he'd wrote on.

She looked down to see a series of numbers. "What is this?"

His eyes gave nothing away. "It's the number to Wayne Manor. You're upset and it's your twenty-first birthday, you may need it."

She had hoped it would pass unnoticed. For a reason she didn't quite understand she shoved the paper into her pocket as she stormed out, thinking of a location of a Gotham bar.

* * *

Helena downed her sixth shot of the evening; still she couldn't get the anger out of her system. She demanded a seventh from the bartender.

"Put that on my tab, Bill."

She glanced next to the spot next to her, seeing an overweight balding man taking the spot, giving her what she assumed was his version of a charming smile. It looked like a leer. "I can pay for my own drinks."

He smiled, there were gaps in his teeth. "Pretty girl like you don't pay for drinks."

She cradled her newly filled shot glass for a moment. "I'm really not in the mood."

He leaned in closer, putting one flabby arm behind her on the back of her chair. She could smell the mix of stale alcohol, sweat and overused cheap cologne. "Bill told me it was your birthday tonight, shouldn't you be celebrating?"

She snarled, "Go away, Bill."

He leaned in closer, putting a hand on her leg. "My name's Henry."

That did it. She slammed down her drink and grabbed Henry's 's wrist with such force that she could feel the bone crack before she heard his cry of pain. She then slammed his head against the bar as she did the shot glass. She saw Bill grab the phone, but was then distracted by Henry's friends coming to their fallen comrade's aid. She pushed back her barstool, finally the drug she needed.

She got the first one a high kick to the temple and swung around and caught the pool stick another was swinging at her head. She stole it out of his grasp and then twirled her newly found weapon like a baton. It was her first time in a long time fighting people who really didn't know what they were doing. It was too easy. She wondered if this was how Bruce felt when he pounded henchmen.

She caught the next man between the legs with the pool cue before whipping it around and slapping his face with it as well.

By the time the cops got there, she was on a high no drug could top. She loved the fight. When the two cops took in the scene, one went over to her to see if she was hurt assuming the fight was over her.

The other asked the bartender what happened. Bill pointed to Helena. "She did it. Jesus, eight of my best customers."

Both cops looked at Helena with shock. She knew why, all eight men were at least twice her size and now were groaning in pain. She still only felt the adrenaline pounding through her veins when they cuffed her. The coldness of the steel snapped her back to reality though. She realized she had no one to call.

Only the number on the crumpled paper in her jean pocket.

Damn.

* * *

Ethan Grant was a hands-on commissioner. He prided himself on this fact. So when he found out that Helena Troy had been arrested he immediately went down to see why. He saw that she got her phone call, and had her wait in an interrogation room rather than a jail cell. He knew it was slightly against the books to do so, but he still remembered the night they found her parents, as she had found them. And was acutely aware of the fact that the case was currently unsolved with no leads.

He observed as she drank more water her rather large glass of water. She still held that calm, collected manner he remembered from the crime scene. Only this time she didn't hide her eyes, her blue eyes instead watched his every move. He almost wished she'd revert a bit.

He knew she already had her statement taken, her phone call given, but he still felt like questioning her. "Why?"

She regarded him coolly. "He was making unwanted advances, a woman is allowed to defend herself."

He raised an eyebrow. "Three men in the hospital goes beyond defending yourself."

A knock on the door interrupted whatever response she was set to give. "Commissioner Grant, her old man's here."

Ethan was confused. "You have a grandfather?"

Helena quipped her lip as she stood to leave. "You need to work on your American slang commissioner."

He followed her from the room wondering who on earth could be posting Helena's bail.

Whoever he was expecting it wasn't Bruce Wayne.

Ethan repressed the urge he had to start firing off questions about what was going on. Bruce Wayne was practically a recluse after losing his full mobility though the tabloids credited it to losing his looks. What possible connection could he have to Helena Troy?

He noticed the stern look of disapproval on Wayne's face as Helena breezed pass him. Wayne's head followed her path, making his way behind her. Ethan wasn't blind or deaf. He could see how attractive Miss Troy was, and he'd heard of billionaire's roguish ways. She was a vulnerable girl in need of money after loosing her parents, he was sympathetic and rich, it was far from the first time he'd seen it.

But something nagged at him about that old man comment. He called out to Wayne before he could get away. "Mr. Wayne."

Cold blue eyes met him. The same eyes that had been staring him down for the past 25 minutes. It clicked. "Yes Commissioner Grant?"

"If Miss Troy is to be released into your custody and the men decided to press charges…"

Wayne cut him off. "I know the law."

Ethan watched the billionaire limp off to catch the woman he now suspected to be the one wild seed of Wayne's that produced a child.

* * *

The car ride was silent until they left the Gotham city limits. Surprisingly it was Bruce who broke it. "Your mother is waiting at the Manor as well."

Helena stopped watching the passing landscape, whipping her head to confront Bruce. "You called her?"

Bruce's eyes never left the road. "No. I gave you the number thinking that you'd get drunk, feel guilty and want to apologize." It was half-true.

"Would you ever do that?"

"Never."

Helena's barely restrained fury broke through. "Then why the hell would I?"

Bruce's voice rose as well. "Well, I certainly didn't expect to bail you out of jail."

"That's life isn't. I didn't expect my parents to be murdered, except they weren't really my parents. No, my parents are fucking Batman and Catwoman!"

Bruce swerved the car sharply, pulling over to the side. He shut off the engine. Bruce gripped the wheel tighter before beginning, "Batman and Catwoman are not your parents, Helena. Bruce and Selina are."

A slight look of horror crossed Helena's face. "You really are crazy."

"No." He turned to her. "The stories about Batman and Catwoman are grossly exaggerated or flat out lies, but there's enough truth to them for me not to have to go over in detail how we met. Eventually, we got past the masks and made a real go at a relationship, in many ways the first one for either of us. It was going quite well until I realized how happy I was, and how real happiness for me only ends in pain. I began to lash out at her, and she lashed back. It ended badly."

The anger was gone from Helena's voice, "How badly?"

Bruce closed his eyes. "She was crying. I was yelling. She threw a vase at my head and ran off with one of my Jags. I put the Riddler into a coma that night."

He opened them again and saw a look mixed with sadness, comfort and understanding on Helena's face. She covered quickly, making a joke. "And you were a little upset over me coping with a few broken bones."

Bruce wanted to stop, but forced himself to continue, Alfred's words of warning that he could loose his daughter if he didn't make her understand ringing in his ears. "About six weeks later she wanted to meet me. I was still upset but Selina always managed to get me to agree to things I didn't want to do. We were in the library drinking tea when she finally said, 'I've decided to retire. I'm giving up Catwoman.'

I was suspicious at first, trying to figure out what she wanted, what angle she was playing. 'Is this your way of getting back together? Because that vase was a family heirloom.'

She got up, visibly frustrated. 'You can really be an ass, sometimes, Bruce.'

I started to talk, but she stopped me. 'No, you don't get to talk for a while, okay. Silence shouldn't be a stretch for you.'

She collected herself and took a deep breath. 'I'm pregnant.' Again I was stopped from talking. 'I swear to God, if you even think to ask if it's yours I will kill you. I'm keeping the baby. I just…I can't….I've thought about it, so much. I don't know why. Maybe it's the thought of being my last chance, my only chance. Or some residual sense of wrongness. Maybe, it's just hormones.' She looked me directly in the eyes; I always hated to see tears in them. 'Or maybe it's just that it's our baby. I don't know. I don't care. I will give anything for this baby. Anything.' I moved to comfort her, but she went on, stronger than I ever gave her credit for. 'Batman cannot be a father.' It stopped me cold. 'I know this hurts, Bruce but it's true.'

I tried to reason with her, 'You gave up Catwoman, I can just as easily…'

But again she stopped me. 'No, you can't. Bruce, I can't ask that of you, no one can. Not even your child could accept that kind of sacrifice from you.'

She tried to put a hand on my shoulder but I shook it off. 'Batman is a sacrifice.'

She shook her head. 'I know. Too well.'

Silence stretched between us. She made to leave. 'I only told you because I knew you'd set that big detective mind to it anyway. But I've made up my mind. I just put someone else's name on the paper.'

I wanted to hurt her, or stop her. 'Can Catwoman really have a child?'

She had a sad smile on her face. 'I hope so.'

I called her name as she walked towards the door. 'Selina…'

She stopped with her hand on the door. I barely heard her words. 'Bruce, if I don't walk out now, I'll never leave.'

One word. One little word. And I couldn't get it out. Couldn't get past that lump in my throat until the door had already closed. Stay. Alfred found me where he left me only I was seated with my head in my hands murmuring, 'Oh God. How much? How much?' I didn't go out that night. For one night Batman took second place."

Bruce looked over to see Helena looking out the window again. She took a shaky breath and looked down at her hands. She didn't raise her head as she spoke softly, "I'm sorry, Bruce. Take me to your home. I'm ready to forgive my mother too."

Bruce started the car again. He was glad he got through to her, but didn't like that she called Wayne Manor his home.

* * *

It'd been a long night for Helena, but she found she still couldn't sleep in the guest bed Bruce had provided. So she wandered until she wound up in what was becoming the most peaceful room in her life.

The Bat Cave.

Her bare feel crept across the chilled cave floor. Bruce mentioned that Cassie was staying in the satellite cave in Gotham tonight so she needn't worry about interruption. She studied it, more than she'd ever had before. Because for the first time she felt she really understood.

This cave was born out of Bruce's pain and subsequent mission. As she got to the glass cases with old uniforms she studied Batman's. She envied his sense of absolute purpose. The fact that Bruce gave up his mission, even for a night, at the very thought of her is what caused the night of tears between her and her mother. She remembered something Bruce said to her, "Fighting random guys in bars means nothing, Helena. You need purpose."

She wasn't quite over Bruce's manipulation, but far enough along that she recognized the wisdom in his words. She walked down to view the other uniforms: Nightwing, Batwoman, Robins and Batgirls. She got to the last one. Purpose. She studied the boots. Thinking. It would look good on her with a few modifications. It needs a cape and a different color scheme. Blue, purple and black would go nicely together. But, yes it would do nicely. Even the name fit.

Huntress.


	22. Now in I Go Like a Fool

**Chapter 22 Now in I Go Like a Fool**

It took seven nights for Helena to create a super hero.

The first night, she learned to prowl. She would comb the back alleys and abandoned streets of Gotham, far from the gaze of anyone significant and stopped a few muggings and drug deals. She wore an old black leotard and a ski mask until she could track down who made costumes for the underworld of the Gotham elite. It was thrilling.

By the second day, she found a name: Kittlemeier. When she paid him a visit early that evening she found he wasn't what she was expecting. Though, frankly she didn't particularly know what to expect from a man whose client list once featured both Batman and the Joker. She knew him to be about seventy years old, and he looked it. He was bent over some piece of sewing; tiny glasses perched on the end of his nose. She'd mastered the art of entering silently, but he still sensed the shift, calling out, "Who's that there?"

She decided it would be best not to toy with him and let her presence be known. "Friend of a friend." He looked her over, and for the first time since she'd turned 13, she felt uncomfortable under an appraising gaze. She shrugged it off, returning to a playful tone. "I need some evening wear, I hear you're the best."

He continued to look her over. "Who's this friend?"

She took a seat on his table, crossing her legs in a way that usually didn't make guys glare like that. "Well, there's Batwoman, Catwoman, Batman, Nightwing, Batgirl, Robin, Riddler, Two Face, Poison Ivy, though I'm not sure those last ones are the best to use to convince you." She saw his shocked look and smirked. "Do you want me to keep going?"

Kittlemeier sighed, resigned and convinced. "What were you thinking?"

On night three she practiced with the batarangs she managed to swipe from Kittlemeier's. He reprimanded her the next time he saw her, not just for the theft, but he could make more suitable ones for her hands.

On the fourth night, she experimented with grappling hooks and swinging on lines of cable. It was tricky (with two near misses) but exhilarating.

On the fifth night, she admired her new outfit in Kittlemeier's mirror. "You have the same measurements as Catwoman."

Helena threw back the black cape with blue inner lining to admire the black boots and purple bustier with a zipper going down the front to tiny shorts. "Makes sense, the only things I inherited from my father reside above the shoulders."

She used the sixth night to follow Cassie, familiarizing herself with the shadows. Cassie didn't notice.

But the seventh night was different.

* * *

The Riddler checked his gun again as the blathering idiot continued. "Are you certain she will come?"

Why must the world be plagued with such idiocy? He tucked his gun away and turned to explain again, with forced smile. "As I explained before, you may recall, I've sent the clue. The pieces are in place, the die is cast, the cogs are in motion…"

The other man cut him off, "That's quite enough of that."

The Riddler's grin turned genuine, "Are you sure? I've got a million of them."

The other man growled. "This is no time for games."

The Riddler's grin widened, "But I so love games."

The darker man snorted. "No wonder your predecessor had so little respect."

The Riddler darkened. "At least I had one."

A chuckle. "I have one, the greatest of them all."

With a twinkle in his eye the Riddler questioned, "The Joker?"

The other man's fury erupted at the mention of the name. "The clown? The clown! That madman was little more than the joke he claimed to be. Insanity is so easy and simple. That's all he was insane. It's hardly anything at all."

You would know. The Riddler kept that thought to himself. "Well, I think it's time for me to scamper off. I've got date with a pretty lady tonight." He walked out to the henchmen in the outside room. "Let's go muscle."

As he left the Riddler made a mental note to himself, don't partner up with the weirdoes again. He thought for a minute more and amended his rule, unless they're hot.

* * *

Ethan Grant fished for the cigarettes he'd given up in his pocket. He needed a distraction, something.

"The Bat Signal isn't needed."

Ethan didn't even flinch, he was starting to get used to her sneaking up on him. Perhaps it was just knowing the woman behind the mask more though, as much as she'd let him anyway. "I know that, but we have pretences to maintain." He walked over to the control panel and flipped off the modified fog light. "We've got another clue." He moved to hand her the clue but she avoided him. She'd always been like that anytime he tried to initiate personal contact between them. It was frustrating, especially at times like this when it really meant nothing. It meant nothing.

"I already know." She held out her hand. "I just need the clue."

He gave it to her but held it in order to pull her in closer. Her eyes flashed, but she allowed it. If he weren't so angry, he'd probably be grateful. "Where is he? You may need backup."

She glared, fire burning in her eyes. She ripped herself from him and flew off the roof. Leaving behind only the unspoken, "I don't need your help and I don't need you!"

Still, Ethan whispered his worry to the wind. "Be careful, Cass."

* * *

There was no question that she was walking into a trap. Batwoman could taste the set-up in the air. Still, she was Batwoman. She could handle whatever Riddler had to throw at her.

It didn't take long.

The first room was a labyrinth. She set discharges to cut through, and the Riddler was displeased by her "cheating."

She didn't really give a damn.

The next room had her trapped in a box with only a computer screen and keyboard. The point was to answer the questions he would flash. For every right answer, he would allow the exiting door to open a crack. For every wrong answer the hatch holding back as much water as the glass box could contain. Again, Batwoman passed over the game and used brute force to get herself out of the box and closer to her goal.

Again, the Riddler was displeased.

Luckily for Batwoman at this point the Riddler was out of tricks and with the games over, she saw henchmen loading up high tech equipment loading a truck under Riddler's supervision. When they saw her they immediately dropped what they were doing to engage her, she dispensed of them quickly keeping the escaping Riddler in the corner of her eye.

He would not escape this time. She brought down the last man and managed to cut in front of the Riddler, blocking his escape route.

Again, he appeared displeased.

"Game over." Cassie nearly cringed at the corny line; she needed to hang around Dick less.

Riddler pulled out a gun. "Enough theatrics."

Cassie was prepared for the rip that rang through her. She looked down, shocked to see her suspicions confirmed.

He shot her.

Cassie felt life's blood pouring from her. She always suspected it would end like this, but still found herself unprepared. Her body's instinct took over and she clutched at the wound desperately trying to keep the red inside rather than pouring out. She felt herself stumble from the effort and she once thought people only did that in movies.

The Riddler didn't laugh, only smiled and she felt the violence boil up inside of her. He would pay for this he would pay dearly.

Then her foot stumbled into nothing but air and she felt the rest of her falling after.

She closed her eyes, feeling the rush of the wind for the last time, but it was over too quickly. And the pain she felt on impact could not be worse.

She felt like crying.

But wouldn't give her last enemy the satisfaction.

* * *

The Riddler looked down at his former enemy. He could see the blood begin to pool.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Riddler turned to his 'partner.' He refrained from the usual smart comeback as the henchmen were gaining consciousness again. And henchmen were not known for their loyalty, especially ones brought on by someone else. He shrugged. "Gun works as good as deathtrap." Besides complex death traps would be lost on such an average intellect as Batwoman.

The other man simply glared. "It was my duty to kill the imposter."

That was the real Batwoman, but again the Riddler held back from saying it aloud with six large men gathering behind their master—not him. "Dead is dead."

The other man stormed off in a fury, still the Riddler was glad for the loaded gun with five bullets left. The henchmen didn't move. The Riddler ignored them to check on his creation once more. He caught some of the men's lost looks and smiled evilly to himself. With a flourish he picked up his cane. "Remember what happened to the last Huntress?"

He was no longer the only one grinning evilly now. "It seems you have the reminder of the night off gentlemen." For the first time the Riddler longed for a bowler hat to tip.


	23. Rise Again By Your Side

**A/N:** Sorry for such the long wait for an update, but consider this a holiday gift :) As always, thank you for all the kind reviews! Hopefully life will let me update more quickly. My goal of finishing this story before the year is over will not be happening, but maybe I can get done within a year (I think I posted the first in February), so we'll see.

**Chapter 23 Rise Again By Your Side**

As a journalist, Gina Vale believed in three sound principles:

1. Every good journalist gets cheated out of a Pulitzer at least once in their career

2. It's not annoying someone, it's persistence, and it pays off eventually

And above all else,

3. A story's greatness can only be measured by how well it's known, not received.

People liked to blame her for Cardinal's death because of the expose on him that made her career, but it was her job to bring truth to the masses. She took her job seriously, regarding it as responsibility. She regretted nothing.

Except that she'd gotten screwed over by the Pulitzer people, but that only made her determined to find a story so big, no one could ignore it. She'd found that exposing superheroes was a sound way to do this; after all, Cardinal was a minor super hero but still the response had been overwhelming. She could imagine what would happen if she got one of the big ones. This imaging led to her resolve—next time it had to be one of the Justice League members.

Gina immediately identified Batwoman as the ideal target. True, with Batwoman she couldn't play on people's fear of God-like powers, but concessions would have to be made. As a vigilante, she could claim Batwoman was acting against the law as much as those she prosecuted. In fact, in the few pieces she'd run on Gotham's masked element, she'd already alluded to this, planting seeds to reap later. Also, Batwoman's identity would be the easiest to identify for she was only human, which guaranteed she was recorded somewhere and the most likely to have a secret identity. Unfortunately, she'd been impossible to pin down.

Until tonight.

For the past few months, Gina had been using a police scanner to track Batwoman's movements; tonight had been one of the few times she actually been able to follow her. The Riddler's clues had helped with that because then she at least had a definite starting point. Most of the time she lost Batwoman to her irregular travel method of running across rooftops, but she'd managed it tonight.

Gina followed her to this building waiting for Batwoman to swing out triumphantly, but instead she saw a figure fall from the window. Upon closer inspection, Gina saw that the figure was Batwoman.

Gina Vale could not believe her luck.

Batwoman was lying in an alley, ripe for the taking. Gina recalled the story of Gotham's Huntress, as reported by Virgina Bale—What a story! Virgina (who Gina liked to think of as her namesake) had won a Pulitzer for some piece on a Washington scandal but won fame for making a costumed vigilante human. She had delved into the very psyche and motivations that could drive a person to such a life. Now it was Gina Vale's turn. She could barely contain her excitement as she made her way to the fallen hero, for here she was about to join the ranks of Journalistic history right along with other great women like Barbara Walters, Connie Chung, and Lois Lane. She felt a glee wash over her that she once reserved for birthday presents.

However, as she approached, henchmen showed up and Gina retreated back into the shadows. It was thing to expose a hero, but it was always best not to anger villains. She briefly recalled how Virgina met her untimely end when the Joker singled her out because her story tortured Batman, which was his job. Gina had no intention of being hung by her own intestines, even if the Joker was gone.

Still as she watched the men approach she was keenly grateful for the camera concealed within her earring. Gina began to write the story in her head; "Dark men approached circling like vultures over the body of the fallen Batwoman."

Suddenly, a dark protector came from the heavens to defend Batwoman's body. Gina only caught glimpses of the figure but saw a small figure in a cape, long dark hair flowing wildly as the henchmen fell one after the other. The figure was too quick for them and it was only a matter of minutes before they were down, and Gina got a good look at this person. She recognized with some shock that it was a woman, with a mask, who peered around the alley as if challenging any other would-be contenders. Gina was never so grateful for a concealed camera. The woman's outfit resembled that of the old Huntresses, but Gina had never heard of a new Huntress. She may not get Batwoman's identity, but being the first with a story on a new superhero may be just as good.

The masked woman bent over Batwoman; bringing a hand to the throat, presumably looking for a pulse. After a moment, the dark figure shifted, her hands searching around Batwoman's waist. She raised herself again, pressing a button on the remote she'd retrieved. Then the dark figure turned towards Gina, for a moment Gina stopped breathing, as the dark woman seemed to look right at her, her eyes burning the soul. Her hand disappeared into her cape and she threw so quickly Gina never caught sight of what only felt the wind as it rushed past too close to her face. Gina yelped. She looked to her side to Batarang in her earring, now destroyed against the wall. Before she could muster a curse a face was too near, whispering with a dangerous edge, "If you want an exclusive on a superhero, Miss Vale, I suggest you go to Metropolis."

Gina heard a roar of an engine and turned her head to the sound. When she looked back, both women were gone.

* * *

Tim Drake found himself working late again, with only a few months until his leaving, he was working twice as hard finding someone to replace him. The business side was easy enough—he had it down to two candidates, both with a history of impeccable morals and success. Ron Lerone was working at a successful technology company in Star City, but was recovering from a hard divorce and looking for a fresh start. Robin Latoye was Tim's favorite, though. A Gotham native (with a great first name), Miss Latoye had taken a struggling division of Wayne Industries and turned it into one of the most successful departments in the company. He'd been having her tail him unofficially for the past month, taking her under his wing so to speak. The only reason it was not official was her lack of formal education, which he was trying to figure out how to get around.

No, finding the person to actually run the company was not a problem. His real struggle was in finding a replacement for a company figurehead, someone to carry the name Wayne and be a face for the public. Despite his nature, Bruce had done his duty well (fop act aside) and as another son of Gotham, Tim had been well poised to take that position as well.

But who else could do that now?

"Hey Tim."

Tim turned to see Dick standing in his doorway. Dick would be the nature choice to carry on the Wayne name, being Bruce's official adopted son, but Dick always shied away from that mantle. Tim broke from his thoughts when he first noticed Dick's serious expression. "What is it, Dick?"

Dick looked down and closed the door softly behind him. He motioned for Tim to sit, but Tim stubbornly remained standing. Dick sighed, "It's Cassie, Tim. She's dead."

Tim sunk to the chair as Dick went on to explain about the Riddler clue, but Tim interrupted him, "Who found her?"

"Helena. She's decided to take up the Huntress mantle. I think Bruce is a little ballistic about it. He did that little tick thing with his eye before giving a mean scowl when he told me."

Tim was confused, Huntress, Helena had been dead for years now. He would never forget finding the body. "Who's Helena?"

Now Dick looked confused. "Didn't Cassie tell you?"

"Dick, aside from Bruce, you're basically the only one I talk to from the old days."

"Helena is Bruce's daughter."

That got Tim out of his chair. "Bruce has a daughter and he didn't tell me?! Jesus Christ." Tim began to pace around the room as Dick watched carefully. "And here I've been looking for someone to take up the Wayne name, when it turns out I've had one all along! What a fucking prick!" Tim's voice began to crack. "That asshole…That…That…" Finally, Tim could no longer hold back the tears.

Dick put an arm around him. After a while, Tim began to laugh with a ting of hysteria. "Do you know what's funny?" Dick didn't answer. "I can't even tell my wife why I'm upset."

Dick looked at the man he consider his little brother. "Tim, go home and tell her everything."

Tim shook his head. "Bruce warned me…"

Dick cut him off. "How many women know the true identity of Batman?" He let the words sink in. "Go home, tell her, let her in, let her support you, you're going to need it."

* * *

Bruce sat in front of the computer in the Batcave. He'd been here for days now, since Helena came home with Cassie. He'd set an alert up whenever the Batmobile entered the Cave, and that night he'd come down to find his successor lying on the med table and his daughter in tears over her. She looked up when he entered. He walked over and she'd said, "I couldn't save her."

He looked down at Cassie's body. She looked strange in death; even in sleep she always seemed alert and observant, now she was gone completely and just not there. Something deep within Bruce shuddered. And that was the moment he looked up and noticed what Helena was wearing. He growled, "What are you wearing?"

Helena straightened and stopped crying, though she neglected to wipe the tears away already fallen on her cheeks. "What?"

Bruce narrowed his eyes. "You do not belong on a rooftop."

Helena's look of disbelief didn't waver. "Really? Even now?"

Bruce looked down to Cassie again. "Do you want to be the next one on this slab? Follow the Huntress before you as well as Cassie?"

Bruce didn't need to look up to know the look that crossed Helena's face then. "Fuck you." She walked away, her heels echoing off the cavern's walls and the door slamming with a resounding thud. Bruce took care of all the business required in burying Cassie, then sat in his chair and had yet to leave.

Cassie was another casualty of the Cause. When was it going to be enough? Would it take the blood of his daughter? Bruce couldn't stand the thought.

"Cassie's funeral is in an hour. You need to get ready."

Bruce spun to see the object of his thoughts standing there. Helena was dressed in a modest black dress, with her hair in a bun and a set of black pearls on her neck. Bruce focused in on the pearls, his thoughts now drifting to white pearls, covered in blood, spilling on the dirty alley. So lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice Helena come closer until her hand was on his shoulder. He hid the jump from the surprise but still looked shocked when he met her eyes. "You are going to this funeral. You will go upstairs and get dressed, even if I have to do it myself. This is not a negotiation."

In that instant, Bruce saw something in Helena he'd never seen before in anyone, his mother. Alfred had insisted Helena was the spitting image of Martha Wayne but it wasn't until this moment, in her prefect poise and quiet but absolute strength that Bruce saw it. "Why Huntress?"

The image of his mother dissolved before him and he saw only his daughter as she leaned against the desk's ledge. "What choice did I have? I'm the daughter of Batman and Catwoman." She briefly smiled. "My identity had to reflect my connection to the past, so it couldn't be entirely knew. I didn't want to be thief so Catwoman was out of the question." Her eyes took on a distant look. "And Batwoman was supposed to be taken." She came back, resuming her lighter tone. "As for Robin and Batgirl, let's face it I was not made to be a sidekick, so who was left?"

Bruce looked at her evenly. "I do not approve of it."

Helena smiled again. "Welcome to fatherhood. I wouldn't be your daughter if I wasn't doing things you didn't approve of." She stood up again, no longer leaning against anything. "By the way, I'm moving in tomorrow. Someone has to look after you and Alfred in Cassie's place, and frankly, for all your money, I don't think anyone but family could put up with your jackassery."

Bruce wanted to say something, "I'm…" sorry. But he just couldn't get out that last word.

Helena seemed to understand. Her eyes softened. "Get dressed."


	24. Now That You're Gone

**Chapter 24 Now That You're Gone**

Meredith Drake looked at her husband's face again. She'd never seen a man look closed off and haunted simultaneously, but he pulled it off. She clasped his hand tighter and moved her other hand to touch his arm reassuringly.

Meredith wanted to comfort the man she loved, but inwardly she was still reeling and wondering if she ever knew this man beside her. She'd feared the worst when he took her hand, clearly upset, and spoke the dreaded words, "We need to talk." She'd prepared herself for a death in the family, an affair, what she considered anything, yet his confession still caught her completely unawares. She still hadn't quite had the time to process and come to grips with it, but as she looked around at the other five guests at this burial she found an answer to a question she'd always wondered about: What kind of person puts on a mask and runs around of rooftops either committing or stopping crimes?

The man beside her, the man who had existed for the past hour or so was not a man she recognized. Her husband, Tim Drake, was the kindest man she'd ever met in her life. He was hard working and dedicated, but also goofy and caring. He was the guy who took every hard thing life threw at him with a smile and a persistent courage to keep moving forward. However, five minutes in the company of these people and he became the low-ranking sidekick once more. The nice guy and the kid that everyone insisted looking after. And, like always, he took it all with a smile, albeit a far more serious one. She wasn't sure she liked the change.

The others were just as serious as Tim had become. She turned her head to the couple at the foot of the grave. She'd remembered meeting Dick once or twice, but she'd never seen him as anyone other than Tim's old friend slash big brother. Today, she only saw the man who was Nightwing. An old, deep pain radiated off of him in waves as his ponytail trailed behind him in the wind and she wondered how she never noticed.

She couldn't place the shorthaired woman in the wheelchair paired off beside him, but Meredith could tell she wasn't an outsider to this group as she was. She had an aura of authority beneath the grief, as though she was determined to stay in control.

The final pair stood directly across from them, and Meredith found them the hardest to comprehend, but felt that they were the true key to the question of what kind of person puts on a mask. Meredith had met Bruce Wayne more times than she could accurately count. But he was always careful never to make much of an impression. Today, it felt like she was meeting, seeing, him for the very first time. She noticed that the papers were wrong, Mr. Wayne hadn't lost his looks completely. Rather, he still cut an impressive figure and had a full head of silver hair, but age toughed and wrinkled a once extremely handsome face. The main change she saw in him today, however, was the cold calculation behind those icy blue eyes of his. She huddled closer to Tim, fully understanding, for the first time, the fear of Batman, something the criminals of Gotham had known and lived for years.

The last person was another woman she could not place. If not for Tim's confession of the late Cassandra Cain being Batwoman, Meredith would have assumed that's who the girl was, as her eyes matched the cold calculation of the former Batman's. Despite looking like supermodel, the attitude surrounding her resembled more of a battle-toughened soldier. She stood with a square jaw like this was a test of endurance rather than a burial of a friend.

For the first time her life, Meredith Drake understood what it took to truly be a Batman or a Robin, and found herself eternally grateful she didn't possess such a capacity.

* * *

Barbara wanted to leave directly after Cassie's body was under ground and properly honored. She had to find the Riddler. She managed to dodge Dick's attempts to stop her, but Helena managed to catch her before she was out the door. "Babs, I need some things."

Barbara's first instinct was to just keep going, but curiosity got the best of her, so she stopped. Helena thrust out a piece of paper. "I have a list."

Barbara took the list and read it. "Helena, what is this?"

"I have a plan," Helena said with a nod of her head.

"How does your plan involve a birth certificate naming Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne as your parents?"

Helena sighed. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right." Barbara was tempted to ask what _this_ was but refrained hoping for an explanation to follow. Helena didn't disappoint, continuing, "The best lies are based in truth. Bruce Wayne sent me to be raised by the Troys to give me a chance at a normal life, to spare me from being gossip fodder for tabloids as a billionaire playboy's bastard with a pretty socialite. That's where the lie comes in…"

The rest of the list clicked with Barbara and she saw Helena's line of thought. She interrupted her, stopping the rest, "I see where you're going with this. You may want to go over this once with Bruce, but I think it's good. I will get started right away."

Helena nodded again. "Thank you."

Barbara hastened her exit, more excited for this distraction from her friend's death than she should really allow herself to be.

* * *

Bruce hated walking with the cane, entrusting a good majority of his weight on a simple stick wasn't something he did easily. But it was necessary and like many necessary things in life it was less than desirable. He walked over to the big bay windows behind his mother's old writing desk. He looked out, seeing the gray sky on the unusually cool June day. He let himself get lost in the sight of the wind ripping off a green leaf from the tree, killing it in its prime.

Tim's voice interrupted his thoughts, "You're daughter is quite beautiful Bruce."

Bruce heard the undertone of scorn and pain in Tim's voice and prepared himself for yelling match that was sure to follow. He didn't bother to face Tim, since he could see his reflection in the glass. "Tim."

Bruce watched as Tim walked over and poured himself a drink. He took a sip before talking. "You could have told me you had a daughter, Bruce. Would've saved me a lot of trouble."

At first Bruce was puzzled by the lack of an accusatory tone, but then remember this was Tim, not Dick. Tim was speaking business, not from past sins. "What do you mean?"

"I've been scouring the country looking for a suitable representative for the Wayne name, and you have a real Wayne all along."

Tim took another drink, but made a bit of a face as he took it away. Bruce ignored the action. "It's complicated, Tim."

Bruce saw Tim put the drink down. He remembered the boy never was much of a drinker. "Bruce, next week I will be announcing the appointment of Robin Latoye as acting CEO of Wayne Industries. I was hoping to have the seat filled soon after."

Bruce shook his head, not caring if Tim saw the action or not. "The seat isn't as important."

"Yes it is." Tim sounded exasperated. "The company needs a face, a Wayne to ensure a stable public image. It's the same role as the royalty of England. You can claim they aren't needed, but no matter what they inspire that nostalgic sense of tradition and stability throughout the years." He continued softer, "Bruce, you of all people know the importance of image and masks."

Bruce looked at the fallen leaf once more. "I'll discuss it with Helena."

"Thank you."

* * *

Dick came down from the stairs after a visit with Alfred. The old man had always been a source of comfort for Dick, the replacing mother figure to Bruce's father figure (though Dick would never speak of that out loud to anyone). Growing in the Wanye Manor, Alfred was the plate of home baked cookies and listening ear to Bruce's criticizing authority. The sadness that came more from Barbara's grief than his own feelings of loss from Cassie's death, which threatened to overwhelm him after Barbara left insisting on working to take down the Riddler was now lifted.

Upon looking for the others, he discovered Tim and Bruce were having what sounded like a private discussion, so he left them be. He found Meredith in the kitchen, cleaning up, busying herself to starve off bored awkwardness, so he left her be as well.

Before he located Helena, he surprised by someone else's presence. "Jason, what are you doing here?"

Jason was decked out in his Superman uniform, which Dick guessed meant he'd flown here. He was hovering in the entryway, looking unsure until Dick walked up to him. "I just wanted to offer my condolences on behalf of the League. Cassie will be sorely missed."

Dick thought showing up in person with full regalia was overkill, but Jason was his father's son after all. "Thank you."

Jason let himself drop softly to the ground. "I also wanted to offer Gotham any help. I'm sure the criminal element will be out in full force with the story of Batwoman's death." Jason didn't bother to hide the scorn of the Gina Vale story.

Before Dick could form an answer a voice did the task for him. "That won't be necessary."

Dick recognized the voice as Helena's and a quick glance confirmed it, so he saw Jason's reaction to the dangerous beauty clearly. His eyes widened, his breathing stopped, and his jaw went slack. The boy was smitten. In his mind, Dick laughed at the cruel irony, Jason would have been better off falling for Gina Vale or even Laura Luthor. Instead, he gets that love struck puppy look over the only woman who could and would chew up and spit out the indestructible man of steel. "Who are you?"

Helena stepped forward to confront Superman, clearly showing that she wasn't impressed. "I'm Batwoman's replacement. I'll be at the next League meeting, and don't worry, Flyboy, _my_ city will be safe. Now get out of my house."

Dick recognized the cold tone, but wasn't familiar with it as a woman's voice. From the look on his face, Dick thought Jason's thoughts reflected his own. Even Helena's impatience was familiar, "Get out, or I will find some kryptonite and force you out."

Jason was too shocked to do anything but obey. Dick on the other hand was not about to let such behavior go unchecked. As Helena began striding towards the grandfather clock he called after her, "Helena! What do you think you're doing?"

Coolly, she turned to face him. "I'm taking up the mantle, Dick. So you can retire."

Dick felt the anger well up. "That's my decision alone."

She answered slowly, as if she were speaking to a small child, "I'm well aware, but it is the correct one. And before you even say it, no haven't been talking to Barbara."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "Deathstroke's back. I cannot retire now."

Infuriating logic was shot back at him. "You don't know for sure it's him, his costume's changed from red to blue." She paused, her voice taking a more soothing quality. "Dick, the best athletes know when to quit, your reflexes would be too slow to truly face him."

Furious at the thought, Dick lunged for her. She sidestepped his attack and kicked the back of his knee forcing him into a kneeling position. She'd proven her point but to drive it home she leaned in next to his ear, "Do you really think he could handle burying you too?"

She didn't need to clarify whom she was talking about. Still, as she walked away, Dick insisted. "Be careful, Helena. That arrogant, obsessive tone is reminiscent of Jason Todd."

She stopped directly in front of the clock. She only turned her head to answer him. "I'm not looking for vengeance."

Dick got up. "Aren't you? Don't tell me that you aren't going out tonight to search out and destroy the Riddler for what he did."

She turned to face him fully now, a vulnerable look on her face. "The Riddler killed Cassie, a woman who'd been trained as a fighter since birth. I'm not going to go searching him out. I'm terrified to run into him! I'm not doing this out of a need for justice, or any personal need. I'm doing this because I can."

She turned back, set the clock and entered the cave entrance. Dick was amazed. She understood. Why they did what they did. Bruce would be so proud.

* * *

**A/N: **If you're wondering why Ethan wasn't at Cassie's burial, I figured that no one (except perhaps Helena) would have known to invite him. And frankly, even if they did with Tim there I doubt they would've wanted to. I know many people are upset with Cassie's death, but I have a whole line of reasoning behind it. I afraid of how it would affect people's reading of the story to get into it but if you really want I can either do it at the end or privately. As always I'm grateful for every review I get and always encourage more ;)


	25. According to Plan

**Chapter 25 According to Plan**

"I was to kill the bat imposer, you meddling pest. If you are to continue assisting me, you shall need to keep to the plan. Only one more stands in my way. Then I can take my rightful place, ushering in a new world order…"

Blah. Blah. Blah. The man had been going on like this for over an hour now and showed no signs of slowing. The Riddler had finished his Sudoku book ten minutes ago and was starting to wish he could've killed a little more time with it. Now all he had to entertain himself with was seeing how far he could lean back in his chair without falling over, and it had lost its amusement nine and half minutes ago.

"…My glorious triumph will be recorded in history as the most celebrated victory of our time. I will show my superior skills over that mediocre bitch and prove once and for all…"

That did it. All this over some article in _The Gotham Times_ written by that Vale hack who had no less than ten sentence fragments? "Look, I get it. Superheroes are the very definition of annoying. You kill one and another pops up, like daises. But this woman has been active for a week, how can you already have this big of a beef with her?"

The other man glared at the Riddler, annoyed by the interruption. The Riddler decided that trying to balance his puzzle book with one finger could prove interesting. "That woman is the daughter of Batman."

Riddler put his book back down; he hadn't been expecting the other man to say anything interesting, based on his previous track record. "So she's the worthy advisory you promised?"

The other man gave an evil smile. "No." The Riddler went back to his book, the man overdid it with the dramatic speeches, but he had moments of true creepiness. The other man went into the next room, when he came back he had a folder in his hand. "Are you ready for your role in the final play?"

The Riddler let all four legs of his chair come back down to the floor with a crash and put his book aside. "I'm waiting on bated breath."

The other man scowled and handed him the folder, giving the Riddler some time to read. When he finished, the other man asked, "So did you understand the plan?"

Did he dare question the Riddler's intelligence? The Riddler took a deep breath, calming himself down. He stuck to a short sentence, not trusting himself not to go off on his own monologue if he didn't. "Of course."

"Are you capable of what has been asked of you?"

Again, the Riddler refrained himself. "I practically designed that program and dozens more like it. I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

"Good."

* * *

He watched the feed from the hidden camera he'd placed to show the roof of the police station, seeing the green fool place his ridiculous riddle down before running off into the night. What a fool. He looked forward to killing the distraction after his mission was completed.

He leaned forward to turn off the screen he'd been watching from and went to check on his men, to ensure they were setting everything up properly. Soon he would have his final confrontation. He would have everything he worked and planned years for. The moment in which his existence was for was fast approaching. He smiled as he descended from his perch to further inspect his men. He could hardly wait.

* * *

**A/N: The end is in sight. I know this was a very short chapter. The next one probably will be too, but as a treat it should be posted soon, maybe even before the weekend is out. If it wasn't for the fact that they have such different tones I may have put them together as one chapter. Oh well.**


	26. A Love That Never Dies

**

* * *

**

Chapter 26 A Love That Never Dies

Helena was amazed by the amount of information she'd learned in a week. First, criminals (especially themed ones) talk too much, use this to your advantage. She'd put five of these bozos away in one night along with the regular scum because of their tendencies to gloat. She'd found out that she was perfectly capable of functioning off of four hours of sleep. In fact since cradling her best friend's dead body in her arms, she was beginning to prefer it that way. Lastly, she learned under no circumstances should she let Bruce Wayne near a kitchen. The man was a certifiable genius, yet he couldn't seem to understand that a fire alarm was not a good food timer. That was the absolute last time she was going to take his word over Alfred's.

Learning curve aside though, Helena was really beginning to enjoy this way of life. It came easily to her and she was never without work to distract her from dark thoughts. In fact, if not for the whole crazy people trying to kill her every night, it would have been great. As she made her was to the grandfather clock, she found herself to be as happy as she could get, which translated to normal people's terms was numbness.

"Helena, wait. There's something I want to discuss before you go."

She took it back. She turned slowly to face Bruce. A better relationship with her parents would be nice too. Tonight they'd tried a family dinner. It'd been awkward. "What did you want to talk about?"

Bruce looked solemn, so Helena prepared herself. "I want you to take over my position on the board for Wayne Industries and the Foundation. I need you to begin to be the face of the Wayne Empire."

Helena was stunned. Whatever she'd been expecting that hadn't been it. She looked out the big bay windows past Bruce's shoulder, thinking over her response as she walked over to really study the view. "I can't. I want to be a doctor."

She didn't voice the concern about its possible effect on her developing public image. Barbara said she'd be ready by the end of next week.

Bruce knew none of this, to Helena's knowledge. He walked to stand by her side, looking out to see Gotham in the distance. "You could be both. My father was a doctor. Through the Foundation, he and my mother helped Gotham…"

She cut him off. "I know." She sensed his confusion and continued. "In eighth grade we did reports on the Great people of Gotham, I did mine on Thomas and Martha Wayne. It was such an inspiring and tragic story. I never told anyone, but Thomas Wayne is the reason I wanted to be a doctor. Go figure." She saw the look of pride on Bruce's reflection in the window. For some reason a wave of shame washed over her and she lowered her head.

"You're a Wayne." He said it as though it was a new discovery rather than an established fact.

She looked at the reflections in the window again. She studied herself in a way she'd been avoiding for months. "Am I? I really don't know anymore."

She saw the tear fall from her cheek, but didn't feel it, not until Bruce wiped it away. He pulled her into an embrace and kissed the spot he'd previously touched. "You may a stranger in many ways, but you are my daughter in more."

Helena struggled to maintain her inner numbness. She could feel emotions bubbling to the surface that she had no desire to face. A light in the distance past her window's reflection flashed. The Bat signal. "I have to go." She detached herself once more.

* * *

Selina watched the scene without interruption. A small voice in her mind (that sounded suspiciously like Bruce) chastised her for eavesdropping, but she'd figured out how to quiet it years ago. After Helena left a little too quickly Selina took her daughter's place at Bruce's side, looking out the windows silently with him for a moment. "I don't think I've ever seen you that loving."

She meant it to be flippant, but knows she's only deepened the mood and the moment. He doesn't turn to face her; he can feel her presence. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone so much. I don't need to tell you about the women, and I've have arguably three sons and two daughters, but she's different."

Selina wondered if that's an invitation to begin an argument, but finds she doesn't have it in her at the moment. That doesn't seem to be what he wants anyway as he turned and caressed her check. "I should have married you, Selina. We should have been a family. Maybe even given her a little brother."

She closed her eyes leaning into his hand, bringing her hand up to hold his. Then she opened her eyes and pulls his hand away. "Don't say things like that Bruce. Regrets can destroy even great men."

Despite the slight rejection, Bruce brought her closer and she did nothing to stop him. He kissed her and it broke her heart in its agonizing sweetness. One soft touch of lips against each other and she was living a life that wasn't theirs, a fantasy she'd convinced herself years ago she wanted nothing to do with anyway. She tore away from him, she won't let him destroy the image of happiness she worked so hard to build. "It would have been a mistake, Bruce."

He traced her lips with a tenderness she's not sure she knew he possessed. "Do you really believe that?"

She collected herself and looked at him with bright eyes. "No, but you need to."

The grandfather clock chimed interrupting whatever moment they were having and Bruce's stone face replaced the open one that was scaring her only seconds ago. "I have to go see Alfred."

Selina felt Bruce walk away. She looked out the bay windows and saw that great sign of Gotham, the Batsignal, standing out against the dark sky. She remembered Bruce once saying that he often spent in his nights in here so he'd see it clearly. She wrapped her arms around herself, seeking comfort. This had been the pain Selina had been trying to avoid, knowing another she loved was rushing towards it.

Selina was surprised to find he hadn't left yet, and though the words were just a whisper spoken over a shoulder in a doorway she heard them all too clearly, "Stay, Selina."

She looked back at him, angry. "I'm not a dog."

He chuckles and she's not sure why. He comes closer and takes her hand. "I know, Catwoman."

What does that mean? She looked into his unreadable eyes looking for the impossible and found a plea. "It's a request not a command."

Selina closed her eyes and fought against all the emotions flowing through her, desperate to hide them from his careful gaze. She swore she could hear the rumble of the Batmobile's engine as it left. Damn it! She was never supposed to be here again. She turned back to the windows and opened her eyes. She was greeted by the sight of the Bat signal once more and steeled herself in the face of it. "I'll stay, Bruce."


	27. Break These Chains On Me

**Chapter 27 Break These Chains On Me**

Commissioner Ethan Grant took another sip of that sludge called police station coffee. He normally avoided the stuff like the plague, but lately he found it less distasteful than sleep. For sleep, or even the illusion of it, meant thoughts of her, the woman who was assumed to be dead. He liked to imagine it wasn't true, but the highly tuned gut that served him for years was telling him otherwise. So, he waited by the Bat Signal hoping that his gut would be proven wrong. He forced himself to take another sip of "coffee," wishing it were something stronger.

"You look tired, Commissioner."

The voice, while feminine, was too light and sultry to be hers. He turned and saw a figure lounging atop the modified searchlight. Her body stretched across it propped up by the arms supporting her from behind, one of her legs was bent while the other dangled in front of the light. Her quick eyes caught him looking at her and she gave something between a smirk and a grin, which made Ethan uncomfortable. She kicked the Bat Signal lightly with her dangling leg before folding it over her other leg. "You can turn this off now."

Ethan moved to do just that. "So the stories are true."

Huntress didn't move. "Why did you call me here?"

The no-nonsense tone was familiar enough. It made Ethan more comfortable, and he felt like he was back on solid ground. "Riddler clue." He turned and saw the woman gracefully jump off what was now her signal. She took it from him and tore into it. That was not familiar. Cassie just took it and went on her merry way. Huntress studied it for a moment before the clue disappeared, though Ethan wasn't sure where to.

She looked at him blue eyes connecting with blue. "She is dead. I thought you should know, and don't worry, I'm probably the only person who knows why you'd care."

The sadness and grief he'd been holding back hit him like a tidal wave, and he took a moment to struggle to contain it. He wasn't surprised to find the other woman gone when he looked up again.

* * *

The Riddler hated waiting, but it was really all that was left to do. The encryption program was installed and running, the riddle sent. He briefly wondered if this Huntress was even less of a challenge than Batwoman had been. He sighed. What a depressing thought.

He checked the program's progress again. 82%. He began to rethink this partnership once again. He knew this was just supposed to be a distraction. From what, he was unsure, but a part of him was happy to keep it that way. Suddenly, a Batarang hit his computer, eliminating any progress, and interrupted his thoughts.

He spun quickly to face his foe, but found nothing but empty space. He carefully searched every hidden space to see if he could spot her, and gripped his staff in preparation. He heard a noise from the desk he was previously seated and so he spun back.

The sight that greeted him was a surprising one. There she was, Huntress, pulling her Batarang from the computer, sitting casually upon the desk. He looked her over and voiced his first opinion of her, "You're prettier than Batwoman."

She smirked and jumped lightly from the desk, going towards him. He noticed she walked with more of a hip sway than Batwoman as well. When she stopped a few feet away from him, she stood with one hip cocked out and her chest sticking out. She was very different than Batwoman. When she spoke, her voice dripped with sultry seduction, "I know."

He was so caught up in her; he didn't see the bow staff whipping around towards his face until it connected. Nor did he catch it when she spun it around again to hit his own staff from his now shaky grip. His mind sharply informed him that this woman had just distracted and disabled him within seconds; neither had ever been accomplished by her predecessor.

His mind wasn't allowed time to reflect any further as now he felt a sharp boot in his gut, he finally collected himself enough to catch the leg looking for a second shot at his face. He did not like this new hero. She quickly jerked her leg back from his grasp and stood back, studying him with a detachment that made him feel like a lab rat rather than a man in pain. "Well you certainly have Batwoman's little fists of fury, tell me did you cry much over her death?"

She looked at him carefully. "I cried no more over her death, than you put thought into that riddle."

He felt his eyes widen. "You solved my riddle?"

She looked bored now. "Of course."

A surge of glee coursed through him. Finally, a worthy adversary, someone worth his time and efforts, he could barely contain his joy. "Well, I'll just have to make the next one harder."

He lunged at her, but she skillfully avoided every intended blow. Then with one blocked hit she used the grasp she had on his wrist to spin him around and hold him in her mercy, her other hand resting on his neck. He felt the sharp pain in his wrist at this move and heard the dark voice speaking near his ear, "Just think, one sharp jerk of the neck and I'll have my vengeance for Batwoman."

He laughed slightly, knowing better than to be truly frightened. "Right. You have rules."

Her own dark chuckle answered back and his blood froze. "Who ever said I followed their rules? After all, I have a hard time believing the world is a better place with you in it."

Those words caused a reaction within the Riddler that he hadn't felt in years: fear. He felt the cold sweat build up as she played with the grip she had on his neck. Then just as abruptly, she pulled away and he felt the cool steal of handcuffs on his wrists. "No," she said, "you're not worth it."

Not finding any rope, she used the cords and cables from the surrounding machines to tie him up and leave for the cops. She looked at her handiwork once and then picked up his staff to study. "Funny, I'd thought you'd be a lot more difficult, but you were hardly a challenge at all."

If she hadn't gagged his mouth a roar followed by a long speech would have been his response rather than the muffled protests he managed. She stopped looking at the staff and turned back to him. "I guess that shot was a completely lucky one, as you seem to have no skill at all." He murmured protests again. She walked away, his staff in her hand, even stepping over him as she made her way to the exit.

She smiled to herself as she left, men like that were easy to get revenge on.

* * *

This was just embarrassing. He was no longer tied up or gagged, but still, riding handcuffed in the back of a paddy wagon wasn't exactly how he saw this night ending. To make matters worse, the driver seemed to want to make small talk with him. "You didn't do well against my creation."

Riddler's eyes narrowed at the metal grating that separated him from his driver. He recognized that voice. "You created that? Why? How?"

His "partner" chuckled evilly. " I killed her lying parents, exposing her to the truth, so she could become what she truly is, a child of Batman."

What the hell was wrong with this guy? "Why would you do that? If you want to go around killing people, creating the next Batman is kind of counterproductive!"

His driver chuckled again. Jesus, the Riddler thought, I've teamed up with the next fucking Joker. "If I didn't create her, I wouldn't be able to destroy her."

That did it for the Riddler. Nuts. The other man was nuts. Absolutely loony tunes. He knew better then to throw in with the crazies. He had picked his handcuffs by now and stood up in the moving truck, readying the explosive the guard had neglected to take away. "Right. Well, thanks for the lift. I believe this is my stop."

With that he blew off the back doors and tucked and rolled his way to freedom. Dusting himself off he reflected on what the man driving the disappearing wagon said. The Riddler feared all the man had done by creating the next Batman was awakened something best left alone. Then again, that could be his sprained wrist talking.


	28. Lost in the Arms of Destiny

**Chapter 28 Lost in the Arms of Destiny**

Five.

* * *

Tim Drake looked out upon setting sun beyond the city that he once dreamed of calling his, back when his plans included replacing Bruce. Before the ugliness that made him quit, which forced Cassie into the position.

Now, she was dead. Because of him, she was dead.

"Already missing the view?"

Tim chuckled and faced the speaker in the doorway. "It hasn't even been an hour since I turned in my resignation, Robin LaToye. And already you're kicking me out?"

The older looked down, chuckling. The orange rays of the sunlight brought out the most beautiful shades in her dark skin and graying hair, Tim noticed. "Of course not, Mr. Drake. Just wondering if you were going to miss it."

Tim smiled briefly. "Robin, you're the boss now, you can call me Tim." He looked out the window again. "And I miss a lot of things."

* * *

Four.

* * *

Robin joined him at the window, standing on the opposite end. "You know, you never did announce a replacement for the Wayne Foundation."

Tim's voice was steady as he spoke. "You know as well as I do that only a Wayne can head the Wayne Foundation."

Robin looked at her former boss, skeptically. She'd worked with him long enough to know he was apt to talk with hidden meanings she didn't fully understand. She had hoped it would stop once he was no longer her boss. "Bruce can't live forever, Tim."

"I know that."

Robin wished her confusion had evaporated. "I don't understand."

He looked at her with a small smile and clasped her shoulder. "You will, soon."

* * *

Three.

* * *

The intercom buzzed and interrupted the moment. Tim's assistant's voice filled the silence, "Mr. Drake, there's someone here to see you."

Tim answered back, "Send them in." Then turned to face his successor again. "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." She began to walk to the door, it was already opening to admit Tim's guest. "Next time, I'll be sure to bring a measuring tape." She acknowledged to the person who entered before making her exit.

Tim gave a brief chuckle at Robin's joke, before greeting the woman who had entered. "Barbara, so good to see you."

* * *

Two.

* * *

"How are you holding up, Tim?"

Tim felt himself close off immediately at Barbara's "innocent" questioning. She always was a meddler. "I'm fine."

She rolled closer to him. "Please, that's the same 'fine' Bruce and Dick give before they wind up pummeling someone or pass out. Tim, tell me the truth. None of that macho bullshit, you'd give Bruce or Dick."

"It's Helena." Barbara looked shocked; clearly it wasn't the answer she'd been expecting. "She's too young and inexperienced. She's green and it's going to get her killed. I was thinking, maybe I should take Batman's place like I was always meant to."

Barbara really looked shocked now. "No."

"Don't give me that Barbara. I'm younger than Dick, even Cassie, and I have more experience then Helena will ever have. I've recovered from the Joker incident, I'm ready."

Barbara lightly grasped Tim's wrist. "Tim, no."

* * *

One.

* * *

Tim removed his wrist from Barbara's hand. "Why not?"

She fixed him with that same stern gaze she gave Dick when he was being a stubborn ass. "Your family, for one."

"That's what secret identities are for."

"They get compromised." She sighed. "A superhero with a family is like a thief looking for that last big score."

Tim gave her an odd look. "You've been spending too much time with Selina."

"Hear me out. Thieves are always looking for that steal that will set them up for life, and then they will retire to that island in the Caribbean. It never happens though; it's just false hope. Superheroes have that same pipe dream, only in a different form. It's that one last save, the final event that will allow them to retire. Like the world will just be saved and stay that way someday. Then they can settle down and do the family thing. It's that ray of hope that keeps us going, and if you return Tim, it's false." She looked up at his face with hopeful eyes. "We need you to be our happy ending, Tim."

He couldn't return her gaze. "I'm not so happy."

* * *

Boom.

* * *

Tim felt the vibrations through the floor before he heard the noise. Out his window, he saw pieces of the Gotham skyline crumble.

The sun went out and the city was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Helena studied the Bat computer again. It couldn't be, no way was it that simple. She double-checked her information. Sure enough, she was correct. All the dots were connected now, her adoptive parents' killer found.

She thought about the adoptive adjective, it was true, but it was only months ago they were simply her parents. How had Bruce and Selina become her real parents so quickly? Did she see them as her parents?

"Turn off the video feed."

Helena started. She didn't know how he managed to sneak up on her, no one else ever did. She whipped around to study Bruce's face he was deeply concentrated on the screen. She typed in the commands to follow his instruction, wondering if he saw the conclusion she'd come to. A final keystroke and the feed appeared. Then again, he might have always known.

"…thirteen buildings in the downtown Gotham area have been destroyed. The amount of people injured and killed in the blast is unknown as of now and the police have been refusing to release any information at this time…"

Bruce spoke again, much closer now, causing Helena to jump again at his voice. "Cross reference the destroyed building with a map of Gotham City, look for a pattern."

Helena stopped herself from commenting that's what she was about to do. She didn't need to start a fight with him right now. She typed quickly and the buildings were highlighted quickly on the map. The map showed five buildings in a row down one street and five more buildings in a row parallel to them with three buildings in a row connecting them. Helena rose to get dressed. "Pattern's pretty clear, that's an H."

Bruce followed her, but allowed her privacy. "Helena, you need to know who you're dealing with tonight."

She emerged from the dressing room, "I know."

"Not just your parents' killer, you need to know who he is…"

She turned and placed a hand on his arm. "No, I know."

He understood. "How long?"

She glanced at the clock on the screen. "A minute, maybe two. How long have you known?"

He ducked his head down. "I wanted to see if you could figure it out. It was a test. Stupid." He looked at her evenly again. "Helena, you could die."

She looked away for a moment only to meet his gaze again. "I know. But someone has to do this."

"It doesn't have to be you. I know I pushed you into following me, but I was wrong to push you into continuing my work. Let Jason deal with this, don't…"

"Stop." Bruce listened and focused in on his daughter again. "I'm not your replacement, you're irreplaceable. I'm not you heir; I'm your daughter. I'm a product of you and the decisions you've made. But I love the rooftops. It suits me so well. I am proud of you and your accomplishments. One person cannot save Gotham, but you've proven one can make quite a difference. I cannot replace you, but I swear I will make damn sure that your accomplishments have not been in vain. I alone cannot save Gotham, but I can protect it." She let her words settle before switching gears to a more playful tone, "So can I take the car out tonight?"

Bruce looked at Helena and felt he was really seeing his daughter for the first time. She was him. "The plane would get you there faster. He's making a statement, I'm sure he left something for you, you need to get it before the police do."

"I'm not a pilot." She began to walk towards the Batmobile.

"Then I guess it's the car or the bike."

She stopped mid-step. She looked behind, "Bike? There's a bat bike?"

He looked at her as though she were slow. "Yes."

Her eyes lit up like Bruce imagined they would've at a proper gift. "Where is the bike?"

He led her to the hidden garage where the other equipment was kept. She ran up to the bike and immediately tried to start it by placing her palm on the touch pad. It didn't recognize hers. Bruce used his own palm to reprogram the bike and give her access. "Why the bike? Dick and Tim always complained about not getting the car."

"Because Dick and Tim were boys, and they always want place so much pride on their toys. Any woman, on the other hand, would take something powerful and vibrating between her thighs over a car."

Bruce was slightly horrified. "You are too much like your mother sometimes."

She flashed him a smile as she started the bike.

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before she could leave. "This is serious. You could die tonight."

Her face dropped to match his tone. "I know, but at least I'm going out fairly happy." After the words left her mouth she found she agreed with them. "I'm happy, all things considered."

Bruce looked into a reflection of his own eyes. "Be safe. I love you."

She looked back. "Yeah."

With a swift kick and acceleration, she was off, leaving Bruce standing in the proverbial dust, completely helpless to her fate.

* * *

Bruce had been right, Helena had to steal it from the Commissioner who'd arrived before her, but the bastard had left a clue for her. Unlike the Riddler he didn't even try to disguise it's meaning. The slip of paper just read, "Pier 41."

She encountered muscle, but they were easily taken care of. As she laid out the last guy, slow clapping met her senses. She tried to pinpoint its source but didn't see him until he revealed his position from the shadows.

He was tall with a gaunt face, dark features upon it. He walked towards her with an arrogant air. She approached with her own swagger, removing any seduction from it, knowing it would be no use on him anyway.

He stopped his approach, and smiled cruelly, thin lips curling over white teeth. "Hello Helena. It's nice to finally meet you. Got my messages I see."

She didn't return the smile, just stopped walking towards him. "Can't say it's such a pleasure for me, Damian."

* * *

**A/N:** A lot of you guessed that big reveal already. What can I say? I'm too lazy to write a great mystery. Well, the end is within reach, kiddies, only two chapters left. So review, as I'll need the motivation if you want the rest quickly :)


	29. Set the Evil Side Free

**A/N: **So sorry for the long wait on this chapter, but hopefully the quality will make up for the wait. And the final chapter shouldn't be nearly as long of a wait. As always, let me know what you think.

**Chapter 29 Set the Evil Side Free**

Damian resisted the urge to laugh, of course she knew. Oh, this was going to be too much fun. "So did you figure that out all by yourself or did daddy help you?"

He circled her like a vulture just waiting for its prey to die, but Helena wasn't the type to be intimidated by such antics. "I have no intention of riding on the coat tails of my predecessors," she looked him up and down with purpose, "unlike some. Seriously, minus the crazy hair, you're a spitting image of the old man."

The briefest of scowls passed by his face before he smiled again and he spoke "I killed the old man; I defeated the greatest of Batman's enemies."

Helena wanted to smirk. "Insert the obvious Joker argument here."

Damian ignored her. "Next, I defeated that Batwoman bitch. I was supposed to deliver the final blow, but that meddling mad man so crudely did the job for me. He'll receive his just reward when I take my true place."

Helena decided against asking the obvious and merely raised an eyebrow in question.

Again, he ignored her. "Then there was the matter of you, little sister. I found out about you by chance and accident. My mother was obsessed with her competition for Batman's affections and your whore of a mother was on the top of that list. Grandfather never knew the cause of the depression that lead to her taking her life, but I knew. Through her surveillance efforts I learned of Batman's daughter, my half-sister; unlike her, I could've cared less about the means under which we were created, from a test tube or more natural ways makes no difference. What did need to be done, however, was that you needed to reach your full potential. So I killed Chet and June Troy, two weaklings who died easily, accomplishing the tragedy that would spur you to become what I needed you to be. So that now when I kill you, it will be undisputed that I am the true heir of Batman. I will take my place as Batman's son and true heir. It is my destiny."

"So you're going to become the next Batman by killing people. That's your grand plan?" Helena realized how well Damian did that villain speech revealing his master plan for a man wanting to be a hero, knowing it was a matter of what he'd been raised to be. "You kind of missed Batman 101 there, brother, Batman doesn't kill."

"A mistake that will be fixed with the next generation."

Helena thought about how much better off the world would be without people like Damian in it. "You may be right about that."

* * *

Barbara wanted to talk to Bruce directly, but it would take precious minutes to get to Wayne Manor. So instead she demanded Tim take her to the satellite cave to contact him. When she gained no response (despite learning from the data feed that Helena had been spotted on the scene of the destruction by Commissioner Grant) she began to worry. She worried so much, in fact, that those minutes to face Bruce in person began to look necessary. Tim volunteered to take her without her asking, quipping, "Being a big CEO has its advantages, they're less likely to care about a few broken traffic laws." Against Tim's advice, Barbara called Dick on the way.

He met them outside of the manor and the descended to the cave together. They spotted Bruce before looking at what was on the screen he was studying so intensely. Barbara stepped up first, "Bruce, we need to talk about Helena."

Bruce nodded at the screen. Barbara gasped at the image of Huntress dueling with someone who was supposed be dead. Bruce answered, "I know."

* * *

Damian studied his opponent. She'd taken after her mother more than their father, and Damian felt this to be to his advantage. He remembered how she used her body to manipulate weak-minded men, much like her whore of a mother. He doubted even in her developed stage, she'd put up much of a fight. Oh well, the real challenges would come in time. He smiled and invited her to fight, like a gentleman, "Shall we, sister?"

She glared like a common person would. He attacked and she avoided his blows by stepping out of his range. He persisted and she did as well, never attacking, blocking, or even putting any real energy in avoiding him. It began to frustrate him. "Fight me, coward."

She scoffed as she studied him. "I'm not a man. Attacking my ego isn't the way to get me to lose my head in a fight."

Damian paused for a moment. She was being patient, letting him tire himself. He nearly laughed to himself. That wasn't going to last, he wouldn't allow it. "Yes, of course." He brought out a blade, "Perhaps removing your pretty little head will head."

She had to drop and roll away to duck his blow that time. His second attempt was dodged as well. But before he attempted a third she kicked the blade from his hand and rose to crouching fighting stance. Finally, a real fight "Let us begin."

* * *

Tim spoke the obvious thought, "Damian's dead, he's been dead for years."

Bruce watched as his two biological offspring circled each other. "Apparently he's taken a dip in his grandfather's Lazarus pits and come out as crazy as the old man. Or he's a clone. Either way, I may watch my only real child die."

Barbara picked up on the sentiment behind his words, though she thought it a tad unfair to Dick. "You think Helena will die?"

Bruce's eyes never faltered from the screen. "Yes."

Dick caught Barbara's eyes and she saw he wasn't holding a grudge on the only child comment. He stepped closer and watched beside his adoptive father. "She may win. She has good genes and has had good training. She may win."

Tim stepped as well, "And if not, she'll be replaced."

That got Bruce's attention. He saw the intent beyond Tim's eyes, and glared at the mere thought of it. "No."

Tim bristled. "I'm no longer a child, Bruce. I'm not subject to your command."

Bruce watched his daughter take a hit across her mouth, watched blood trail from her mother's lips. "No, you're not a child. You're an adult who must face the consequences of his decisions. You nearly died against Damian as an evenly aged teenager, now with him appearing to be thirty at most and in peak physical condition and you nearly forty and out of practice. You'd be killed almost instantly."

Tim wanted to protest, but Dick interrupted him, "Think of your wife and children, Tim."

Tim walked away, but only a short way, yelling his frustration. "I do, that's all I think about. I wasn't supposed to turn out this way, and be so normal. Minivans and soccer practice weren't supposed to be in my future. This wasn't what I wanted."

Bruce watched Helena take another hit. "Life never gives you what you want." On screen, Helena broke away from Daemon and re-established her own attack. "Get out, Tim, you don't belong here anymore."

Tim felt the air leave his lungs at Bruce's dismissal. Dick saw the look and walked to the stairs with his arm around the man he considered his little brother, "Tim, Bruce is right. This isn't your world anymore."

Tim looked up from his feet. "But it is yours still?"

Dick gave something of a sigh. "Not really." He looked over to the screen that Barbara and Bruce were watching together, "For better or worse, the future is on that screen."

* * *

Helena found herself on the floor once again and waited for Damian to approach. She thought he would've learned his lesson after the first time when she threw dirt in his face, announcing she had no qualms about fighting dirty. But the man didn't learn from past mistakes. She let it be his downfall, gripping her hidden knife as he began to speak again, she suspected just to hear his own voice once again, "When I take my rightful place in this world, the world and father will follow and bow in absolute adoration of me."

Helena couldn't keep the smart-ass remark to herself, "So that's what this is all about? You're pissed because I'm the favorite."

She knew or at least could guess his response, but he was close enough now that she didn't have to listen. As he opened his mouth she plunged her knife into his left knee as she kicked it from the opposite direction, effectively crippling him. So that the only sound the escaped his mouth was a scream of pain as he dropped to the ground and she rose.

She looked down on him." You want to be so much like Dad, thought I'd give you the same limp."

He glared at her and spit out, "You'll never kill me; you're too weak."

She bent at the knees into a crouch so she met him at an even eye-level. "No, I won't kill you because I'm better then you. I'm more like him." She stood again and took a step away from him.

Only to turn suddenly and land a well placed kick across his face and he fell to the ground. "That was for the Troys." She kicked his torsos after that, feeling the ribs crack beneath her boot. "And that was for Batwoman." She felt satisfied, but not quite the amount she expected from exacting her vengeance.

Her eye caught the lens of a camera in a corner and she stared at it, for some reason imagining her father watching from it.

She then noticed a second thing; explosive charges had been placed throughout the building. She made her way to the door as the Commissioner walked through it, "What happened?"

"Nothing, out."

He looked confused. "What?"

She was getting frustrated. "No questions just go."

He stood firm. "I'm a detective. I want answers."

She looked him firmly in the eyes as she answered. "The building is set to blow."

"Don't you know how to disable it?"

"Yes, but my DNA is all over this place. It's an easy way to remove it."

"What about him?" He nodded at what she assumed was Damian still writhing in pain.

Her lip curled in scorn. "There's no rule that I have to save him. Let the bastard save himself."


	30. Only A Hero Can Save Us

**Chapter 30 Only A Hero Can Save Us**

One year to the day. It didn't seem possible. Helena wrapped the sleek black trench coat around her tighter, remembering the same chilling wind on her walk to the Troys' home. She referred to them as the Troys, not her parents, in both speech and thought now. Funny, the difference a year can make. She was no longer Helena Troy, top level gymnast and soon to be college graduate; she was now Helena Wayne, newly discovered Wayne bastard who naturally took after the grandfather as she was less fop more studious first year med student, overcompensating for the father she can't stand and sees as an embarrassment to the family. It was amazing, the lies people believe when they are so carefully crafted.

At least the press was affording her this one moment of privacy, it'd been a few months since the announcement. Apparently that was all the time it took for the shine of scandal to wear off and for the paparazzi to discover that the daughter wasn't quite the tabloid fodder her father was. There are only so many pictures of her walking to class and work that people want to see. The story of the secret affair between Bruce Wayne and former socialite Selina Kyle was fascinating and intriguing, but the actual child they created was boring. How little they knew.

Huntress on the other hand was the hottest thing to hit Gotham since the Great Fire. A single picture of her could score an aspiring photographer at least a million ever since Gina Vale's report on her encounter with the newest victim. Even more exciting were the rumors that she was the daughter of the Batman, though her mother's identity was debated. Some insisted with her sex appeal and a body like that she had to be the daughter of Catwoman. Others insisted that there was no possible way she could do what she does without some superhuman capabilities, so Wonder Woman was the natural choice. Still more knew the girl took her mother's name, and was the daughter of the original Huntress. The options were endless. Dick went so far as to quip that apparently Batman got around as much as Bruce Wayne. Bruce's response had been a stern glare.

None of it mattered to Helena at this moment; she was here to honor a memory. She removed two red roses from her coat, letting the harsh wind whip the delicate petals she'd been protecting. She placed them reverently in front of the tombstones.

"I did the same thing."

Helena wasn't surprised by the voice. She turned to face him like she'd expected him all along. "For your parents?"

Bruce carefully walked closer. "Yes, two red roses placed in a dirty alley every year. The alley doesn't even exist anymore but I still go."

Helena looked back to regard the graves carefully once more. Bruce stepped closer. "You know, I was here, when they were first buried. You handled yourself well."

"I know." She stuttered a bit. "Well, I didn't know it was you, but I felt a presence that entire day. Like someone was watching, but it was a protective and watchful gaze so I wasn't nervous."

Bruce stood close enough now that Helena caught his scent on the breeze. It was a comfort to her, leather, some expensive spice, and the hint of damp oldness that came more from the manor and cave in which he lived than the man himself. Part of her wanted to wrap her arms around him and bury herself in his strength, but she wasn't the type. She would stand strong and alone.

Bruce was not a man who could admit much of anything. He struggled greatly in telling Dick that he was proud of him. The same way he struggled in telling Barbara how much he appreciated her efforts and hard work. The same way he never could find the words for Tim and how he always saw them as such kindred spirits, more so than the rest. He tried a few times to tell those who meant so much to him how he felt, but failed miserably each time. So he would not come out and say that he was proud of Helena. He only hoped his other efforts didn't go unnoticed. "Clark has been badgering me with more frequency about you joining the League."

Helena scoffed. "Clark or Jason?"

"Both, but more so Clark. He's a friend, after all." Bruce didn't want to admit that it was because Jason still harbored a bit of his childhood fear of Bruce, though Helena suspected on her own.

Helena was hesitant to express her next thought, but it kept her from reporting her observation that her father had far too few friends. "You know, I never did quite understand that friendship. How did it even get started?"

Bruce repressed a sigh. "Would you believe it began out of a mutual distrust of each other?"

Helena scoffed once again. "Please, Dad, if I ever saw you initially trust someone I would immediately assume magic, clones or alien body snatchers."

It was the first time she'd ever called him Dad. She wasn't sure if that was the true reason or it was the joke itself, or a combination of both, but then Helena heard a rare sound: genuine laughter from the genuine Bruce Wayne.

* * *

Unlike her father, her hair echoes the movement of her cape, only behind the mask is it free. When she is Helena Wayne it's always pulled back in a ponytail or bun to hide its length. She often wondered if it would've been wiser to have it pulled back as Huntress, but there was always the chance it would come loose and it made more sense symbolically this way.

Huntress, Gotham's new protector, watched over her city from a rooftop perched beside a stone gargoyle. She'd just finished capturing the Riddler once more, broke two of his ribs in the process of taking him down and in. He accused her of not fighting fair, but she responded by quipping that no one ever said she had to fight fair.

Besides, Helena had been hoping for a short night, she had a busy day tomorrow. And since Helena Wayne was a studious medical student who was perhaps a little too shy for her own good, she couldn't just sleep through her daytime responsibilities as her father had done. It was the downside to the public face she'd chosen, but it made the most logical sense. She was just about to leave to get some much needed rest when she spotted something in the sky.

The Bat Signal.

* * *

Commissioner Grant was beginning to get used to this routine, where officially Huntress was a vigilante who needed to be caught, but in reality was his go to detective for the impossible cases. She was usually difficult to work with as she only played by her rules, but her results couldn't be questioned. He also knew she cared as she was the one who confirmed Cassie's death, and though he doubted such a woman could have friends, but he was starting to include her on his short list. He had a good suspicion of who she was, considering the identity of her successor, but it was never discussed.

"You know, the Bat Signal is so retro, maybe we should figure out a less conspicuous way of meeting."

Ethan was proud of himself, he barely flinched at all at her sudden appearance, and he liked to think he was getting better. He looked at the beauty in the dark. "Part of the function of the signal is to serve as a reminder and warning to the criminals of Gotham."

She tilted her head, considering his comment, and then shrugged her shoulders. "True."

He knew she was done speaking, so he just launched into it, "Batman wasn't the only person from the past who had a kid."

She smirked. "You believe that old wives' tale?"

"What about Batman or you being his kid?"

She took the vid screen from his hands, he hadn't realized she'd seen it. He gave her the same advice his grandmother used on him, "Patience is a virtue."

She threw her mother's advice back at him. "Good things may come to those who wait, but better things come to those who take."

He had to stifle a chuckle. "You make jokes?"

"More like observations."

"Not very Batman-like from what I've heard."

She gave him a very Batman-like glare in response before beginning the video. The screen showed two women dressed as clowns, robbing a bank. By the end, there appeared to be no survivors only maniac laughter. The only reaction the Commissioner got from Huntress was an almost inaudible quip, "Because what's Gotham without a demented clown or two?"

He ignored the comment and answered the question that hadn't been asked yet. "Call themselves the Harleytwins."

She nodded and handed back the screen vid. "I'll look into it."

The Commissioner blinked and she was gone.

**A/N: **So, sequel? I have an idea, but not a firm plot so I'm open to suggestions and would love any feedback.


End file.
